THE   PLAYHOUSE  SERIES 


UC-NRLF 


B    3    321    fllS 


LILIES  THAT  FESTER 

AND 

LOVES  CONSTANCY 

*    • 

ARRANGED    BY 

WILLIAM   POEL 

DIRECTOR    OF   THE   ELIZABETHAN 
STAGE    SOCIETY 


BRENTANO'S  :  NEW  YORE 


£=£ 


LILIES     THAT     FESTER 
AND 

love's   constancy 


LILIES    THAT   FESTER 

AND 

LOVE'S    CONSTANCY 

•      • 

ARRANGED    BY 

WILLIAM    POEL 

DIRECTOR    OF    THE    ELIZABETHAN 
STAGE    SOCIETY 


BRENTANO'S  :  NEW   YORK 


COPYRIGHT,   1906,  BY  BRENT ANO's 


D.  B.  UPDIKE,  THE  MERRYMOUNT  PRESS,  BOSTON 


INTRODUCTION 

THESE  two  plays  are  modified  versions  of  older  ones, 
and  the  second  of  them  is  in  all  probability  a  com- 
position by  Shakespeare.  It  originally  formed  a  part  of 
the  early  chronicle  play,  Edward  the  Third,  a  drama  which 
can  be  said  to  have  small  dramatic  or  poetic  merit  beyond 
the  love-scene  supplied  by  Shakespeare.  For  this  reason 
it  is  now  separated  from  the  rest  of  the  chronicle  so  as  to 
form  a  play  complete  in  itself,  and  it  has  been  given  be- 
sides an  independent  title. 

The  first  play  is  also  re-named  because  it  has  been  al- 
most entirely  reconstructed  to  allow  of  its  being  acted  on 
the  modern  stage.  Both  dramas  deal  with  the  subject  of 
unlawful  love,  but  the  method  of  treatment  is  strikingly 
different  in  each,  as  also  is  the  portraiture  of  the  two  wo- 
men,— Alice  Arden  and  Lady  Salisbury.  They  are  in  fact 
the  antithesis  of  each  other,  and  can  with  advantage  be 
studied  side  by  side.  This  the  present  publication  renders 
convenient  for  the  first  time. 

In  the  appendix  many  passages  from  Love's  Constancy 
are  quoted  in  comparison  with  other  lines  by  Shakespeare 
to  show  their  similarity  in  diction,  and  all  of  them  belong 
to  his  lyrical  period.  Those  who  are  familiar  with  the 
rhythm  of  Shakespeare's  verse  at  the  time  he  was  writing 
Richard  the  Second  will  not  fail  to  detect  his  hand  in  the 
new  play.  Nor  is  the  similarity  confined  to  the  versifica- 
tion, for  it  is  equally  noticeable  in  the  dramatic  treatment 
of  the  subject.  No  other  dramatist  of  the  time  would  have 
invested  such  an  episode  with  tragic  pathos,  nor  have 
conceived  that  touching  moment  when  the  King  sees  re- 
flected in  his  young  son's  face  the  image  of  the  wife  and 


fMQ 


iv  INTRODUCTION 

the  mother  whom  he  would  wrong.  Neither  would  any 
other  contemporary  writer  have  chosen  for  his  theme  the 
sin  involved  "in  loving  virtue."  In  this  respect  the  play 
resembles  Measure  for  Measure.  Until  Angelo  has  seen 
the  saintly  Isabella  he  has  never  known  what  it  is  to 
love. 

"  When  men  were  fond  I  smiled  and  wondered  how," 

describes  his  previous  attitude.  In  the  same  way  does  Lady 
Salisbury's  beauty  move  the  King  when  he  exclaims: 

"  Whether  is  her  beauty  by  her  words  divine, 
Or  are  her  words  sweet  chaplains  to  her  beauty?" 

And  Shakespeare  by  depicting  in  men,  who  are  not  in 
themselves  ignoble,  an  infatuation  for  women  who  are 
types,  the  one  of  impassioned  holiness,  and  the  other  of 
unwavering  loyalty,  has  consciously  heightened  the  diffi- 
culty of  his  task  so  that  he  may  bring  into  full  play  all 
the  marvellous  resources  of  his  poetic  art,  and  lift  the 
spectator  into  an  atmosphere  of  the  loftiest  sentiment. 

In  what  a  different  world  of  ideas  are  the  characters 
of  Alice  Arden  and  Mosbie  conceived !  Here  the  passions 
are  represented  as  being  uncontrolled  by  any  thought  of 
moral  responsibility,  and  they  are  not  even  excused  by 
an  aesthetic  gratification.  It  is  a  picture  of  coarse  realism 
drawn  with  unerring  insight  and  power.  While  the  story 
of  Love's  Constancy  has  in  its  hold  over  the  intellect  and 
the  imagination  a  beauty  comparable  to  a  picture  by 
Raphael,  the  intrigues  of  Arden's  wife  are  in  their  way 
not  unlike  a  study  by  Hogarth.  Thus  both  compositions 
may  be  said  to  be  the  work  of  master  minds,  but  can 
scarcely  be  classed  as  products  of  the  same  brain.  All 
that  can  definitely  be  gathered  as  to  the  authorship  of 


INTRODUCTION  v 

the  first  play  is  that  its  excellence  in  verse  and  in  char- 
acterization place  it  altogether  beyond  the  powers  of  any 
writer  of  average  ability.  But  we  may  take  into  con- 
sideration those  unnamed  authors  who  assisted  in  writing 
the  three  parts  of  Henry  the  Sixth,  plays  which  were 
included  in  the  first  collected  edition  of  Shakespeare's 
works.  And  it  is  certain  that  besides  Shakespeare  Mar- 
lowe also  helped  in  these  compositions,  together  with 
men  of  such  acknowledged  reputation  as  Greene,  Kyd, 
and  Lodge.  If,  however,  Marlowe's  Edward  the  Second  is 
read  in  conjunction  with  the  best  scenes  in  Arden  of 
Faversham,  the  metre  and  the  metaphors  will  be  found  to 
have  some  resemblance.  But  Marlowe  could  never  have 
created  the  humorous  character  of  Black  Will,  and  if 
this  part  was  not  written  by  Shakespeare  it  must  be 
conceded  that  Pistol  in  Henry  the  Fifth  is  an  open  imi- 
tation of  the  part.  Finally  in  regard  to  the  question  of 
authorship,  in  so  far  as  it  affects  both  plays,  it  is  well  to 
bear  in  mind  that  Edward  the  Second,  Edward  the  Third, 
"the  three  parts  of  Henry  the  Sixth"  and  Arden  of  Fa- 
versham, are  all  compositions  written  within  a  short  time 
of  each  other. 

In  justification  of  the  reconstruction  of  scenes  in  the 
first  play  it  must  be  remembered  that  by  our  early  Eng- 
lish playwrights  the  art  of  dramatic  construction  was 
still  but  little  understood.  A  unity  or  design  is  wanting, 
as  well  as  continuity  of  action  leading  directly  to  a  cli- 
max. The  interest  around  one  scene  is  too  often  lost  in 
the  next,  and  the  plays,  when  judged  by  modern  stand- 
ards, appear  ineffective  and  unconvincing.  In  this  re- 
spect Everyman,  which  has  excited  so  deep  an  interest 
since  it  was  first  revived  by  the  Elizabethan  Stage  So- 


vi  INTRODUCTION 

ciety,  stands  alone  among  the  compositions  of  its  time, 
nor  except  in  the  case  of  the  plays  of  Shakespeare,  Ben 
Jonson  and  Ford,  do  we  find  among  the  Elizabethan 
dramatists  dramatic  construction  that  is  in  any  way 
suitable  for  the  modern  stage.  This  is  mainly  due  to  the 
fact  that  Elizabethan  Plays  needed  an  altogether  differ- 
ent mode  of  presentation  from  that  now  in  use.  For  this 
reason  a  reconstruction  of  Arden  of  Faversham  was  es- 
sential if  the  play  was  ever  to  be  acted  inside  a  twentieth 
century  theatre. 

It  is  much  to  be  regretted  that  the  repertory  of  old 
English  plays  which  survives  as  acted  drama  is  so  small 
compared  with  the  amount  of  dramatic  material  avail- 
able,— material  which  is  only  waiting  to  be  adapted  to 
new  conditions  to  enjoy  a  fresh  lease  of  life  on  the  stage. 
And  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  original  authors 
themselves,  were  they  now  living,  would  not  hesitate  to 
reconstruct  their  plays  sooner  than  see  them  confined  to 
the  bookshelf.  But  unfortunately  whenever  such  adapt- 
ing has  been  attempted  by  later  dramatists  such  as 
Davenant,  Colley  Cibber,  Lillo  and  others,  it  has  rarely 
been  of  a  satisfactory  or  lasting  nature.  This  may  be  be- 
cause the  merits  of  the  original  work  were  not  sufficiently 
appreciated.  And  so  far  as  Elizabethan  dramatic  litera- 
ture is  concerned  it  was  disastrous  to  interfere  with  the 
poetry,  the  dialogue,  or  the  characterization.  In  these 
respects  the  adapters  should  have  esteemed  the  work  of 
the  older  dramatists  as  that  of  their  masters;  nor  should 
any  attempt  have  been  made  to  take  the  story  out  of 
its  proper  environment.  Merely  in  the  art  of  construc- 
tion, that  is,  in  the  art  of  presenting  the  story  in  a  more 
consecutive  and  condensed  form,  should  improvements 


INTRODUCTION  vii 

have  been  attempted.  It  is  in  this  spirit  that  the  present 
experiment  has  been  made,  with  a  view  to  bringing  again 
into  popular  favour  this  lurid  Kentish  tragedy,  a  mas- 
terpiece of  its  kind,  and  one  of  the  comparatively  few 
plays  of  the  sixteenth  century  in  which  the  plot  and 
action  are  founded  upon  English  life  and  manners.  And 
as  regards  the  second  play,  Love's  Constancy,  the  revision 
in  this  case,  besides  the  removal  of  the  episode  from  the 
chronicle  play,  consists  in  the  addition  of  the  necessary 
stage  directions  to  make  of  it  an  independent  play. 

W.  P. 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

a  Cragetip 

ADAPTED    FROM    THE    PLAY 

ARDEN   OF   FAVERSHAM 

ARRANGED    IN    ONE    ACT 
BY 

WILLIAM   POEL 

DIRECTOR    OF    THE    ELIZABETHAN 
STAGE    SOCIETY 


CHARACTERS 

Thomas  Arden,  Gentleman  of  F aver  sham. 

Franklin,  his  Friend. 

Mosbie,  Steward  to  Lord  Clifford. 

Clarke,  a  Fop. 

Bradshaw,  a  Goldsmith. 

Greene,  a  Factor. 

Michael,  Arden' s  Servant. 

Black  WillI 

J-  Murderers. 
Shakebag      J 

Mayor  of  Faversham  and  Watch 

Alice,  A r den's  Wife. 

Susan,  Mosbie 's  Sister. 

Scene  :  The  Parlour  in  Arden 's  House  at  Faversham. 
Period,  1551. 


First  performed  by  the  Elizabethan  Stage  Society  at 
St.  George's  Hall,  Langham  Place,  London,  on  July  9, 
1897,  with  the  following  cast: 

Thomas  Arden  Mr.  D.  L.  Mannering. 

Franklin  Mr.  Paget  Bowman. 

Mosbie  Mr.  Leonard  Outram. 

Michael  Mr.  G.  H.  Blagrove. 

Greene  Mr.  George  Herbert. 

Black  Will  Mr.  Arthur  Broughton. 

Shakebag  Mr.  Play  ford. 

Mayor  Mr.  C.  Bright. 

Alice  Miss  Alice  Isaac. 

Susan  Miss  Ettie  Carlisle. 


The  play  produced  under  the  direction  of 
Mr.  William  Poel. 


LILIES  THAT  FESTER 

9  CtageDp 

IN    ONE    ACT 


SCENE 

A  Parlour  in  the  Manor  House.  At  the  back  of  the 
.  stage  there  is  a  door  to  the  left  leading  to  a  porch, 
also  a  staircase  to  the  light  leading  to  a  gallery,  near 
which  is  a  passage  leading  to  the  kitchen.  On  a  sideboard 
is  a  tankard  of  wine  with  cups;  on  a  table  lie  Arden's 
whip,  hat,  gloves,  and  sword.  It  is  early  morning.  Michael 
is  discovered  looking  anxiously  towards  the  gallery.  Black 
Will  and  Shakebag  enter  cautiously  from  the  porch 
door. 

Will 

Draw,  Shakebag,  for  here's  that  villain  Michael. 

Shakebag 

Speak,  milksop  slave,  and  never  after  speak. 

Michael 

For  God's  sake,  sirs,  let  me  excuse  myself: 
For  here  I  swear,  by  heaven  and  earth  and  all, 
I  did  perform  the  utmost  of  my  task, 
And  left  the  doors  unbolted  and  unlocked. 
But  see  the  chance:  Franklin  and  my  master 
Were  very  late  conferring  in  the  porch, 
And  Franklin  left  his  napkin  where  he  sat 
With  certain  gold  knit  in  it,  as  he  said. 


2  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

Being  in  bed,  he  did  bethink  himself, 
And  coming  down  he  found  the  doors  unshut: 
He  locked  the  gates,  and  brought  away  the  keys, 
For  which  offence  my  master  rated  me. 
But  now  I  am  going  to  see  what  flood  it  is, 
For  with  the  tide  my  master  will  away; 
Lord  Cheiny  bids  him  to  a  feast  at  Shurland, 
And  by  the  way  once  more  you'll  meet  with  him, 
Where  you  may  front  him  well  upon  the  coast, 
A  place  well  fitting  such  a  stratagem. 

Will 

And  if  all  the  Cheinies  in  the  world  say  no, 
I'll  have  a  bullet  in  his  breast  to-morrow. 
Your  excuse  hath  somewhat  mollified  my  choler. 

Sh AKEBAG 

But  is  this  true? 

Michael 

As  true  as  I  report  it  to  be  true. 

Will 

Come,  Shakebag,  let's  go  seek  out  Greene  who  now 

Is  at  the  alehouse  butting  Arden's  house. 

Shakebag 

And  Michael  you  shall  bear  no  news  of  this 

For  we  will  plot  our  purpose  thoroughly. 

Michael 

Why,  I'll  agree  to  anything  you'll  have  me. 

Will 

Come,  let's  go  drink :  choler  makes  me  as  dry  as  a  dog. 
[Will  and  Shakebag  go  out  by  the  porch  door. 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  3 

Michael 

Thus  feeds  the  lamb  securely  on  the  down, 

Whilst  through  the  thicket  of  an  arbour  brake 

The  hunger-bitten  wolf  o'erpries  his  haunt 

And  takes  advantage  for  to  eat  him  up. 

Ah,  harmless  Arden,  how  hast  thou  misdone, 

That  thus  thy  gentle  life  is  levelled  at? 

The  many  good  turns  that  thou  hast  done  to  me, 

Now  must  I  quittance,  with  betraying  thee. 

I  that  should  take  the  weapon  in  my  hand 

And  buckler  thee  from  ill-intending  foes, 

Do  lead  thee  with  a  wicked  fraudful  smile, 

As  unsuspected,  to  the  slaughter-house. 

So  have  I  sworn  to  Mosbie  and  my  mistress, 

So  have  I  promised  to  the  slaughtermen; 

And  should  I  not  deal  currently  with  them, 

Their  lawless  rage  would  take  revenge  on  me. 

Tush,  I  will  spurn  at  mercy  for  this  once: 

Let  pity  lodge  where  feeble  women  lie, 

I  am  resolved,  and  Arden  needs  must  die. 

Michael  goes  out  by  the  kitchen  passage;  Franklin 

and  Arden  enter  from  the  staircase, 
Franklin 

Comfort  thyself,  sweet  friend;  it  is  not  strange 
That  women  will  be  false  and  wavering. 

Arden 

Ay,  but  to  dote  on  such  a  one  as  he 

Is  monstrous,  Franklin,  and  intolerable. 

Franklin 
Why,  what  is  he? 


4  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

Arden 

A  botcher,  and  no  better  at  the  first; 

Who,  by  base  brokage  getting  some  small  stock, 

Crept  into  service  of  a  nobleman, 

And  by  his  servile  flattery  and  fawning 

Is  now  become  the  steward  of  his  house, 

And  bravely  jets  it  in  his  silken  gown. 

Franklin 

No  nobleman  will  countenance  such  a  peasant. 

Arden 

Yes,  the  Lord  Clifford,  he  that  loves  not  me. 

But  through  his  favour  let  him  not  grow  proud ; 

For  were  he  by  the  Lord  Protector  backed, 

He  should  not  make  me  to  be  pointed  at. 

I  am  by  birth  a  gentleman  of  blood, 

And  that  injurious  ribald,  he  attempts 

To  violate  my  dear  wife's  chastity, 

For  dear  I  hold  her  love,  as  dear  as  heaven. 

Franklin 

Be  patient,  gentle  friend,  and  learn  of  me 

To  ease  thy  grief  and  save  her  chastity : 

Intreat  her  fair;  sweet  words  are  fittest  engines 

To  race  the  flint  walls  of  a  woman's  breast. 

In  any  case  be  not  too  jealous, 

Nor  make  no  question  of  her  love  to  thee. 

Arden 

This  night  I  dreamt  that,  being  in  a  park, 

A  toil  was  pitched  to  overthrow  the  deer, 

And  I  upon  a  little  rising  hill 

Stood  whistly  watching  for  the  herd's  approach. 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

Even  there,  methought,  a  gentle  slumber  took  me, 

And  summoned  all  my  parts  to  sweet  repose; 

But  in  the  pleasure  of  this  golden  rest 

An  ill-thewed  foster  had  removed  the  toil, 

And  rounded  me  with  that  beguiling  home 

Which  late,  methought,  was  pitched  to  cast  the  deer. 

With  that  he  blew  an  evil-sounding  horn, 

And  at  the  noise  another  herdman  came, 

With  falchion  drawn,  and  bent  it  at  my  breast, 

Crying  aloud,  "Thou  art  the  game  we  seek!" 

With  this  I  woke,  and  trembled  every  joint, 

Like  one  obscured  in  a  little  bush, 

That  sees  a  lion  foraging  about, 

And,  when  the  dreadful  forest-king  is  gone, 

He  pries  about  with  timorous  suspect 

Throughout  the  thorny  casements  of  the  brake, 

And  will  not  think  his  person  dangerless, 

But  quakes  and  shivers,  though  the  cause  be  gone: 

So,  trust  me,  Franklin,  when  I  did  awake, 

I  stood  in  doubt  whether  I  waked  or  no: 

Such  great  impression  took  this  fond  surprise. 

God  grant  this  vision  bedeem  me  any  good. 

Franklin 

This  fantasy  doth  rise  from  Michael's  fear, 
Who  being  awaked  with  the  noise  he  made, 
His  troubled  senses  yet  could  take  no  rest; 
And  this,  I  warrant  you,  procured  your  dream. 

Arden 

It  may  be  so,  God  frame  it  to  the  best, 

But  oftentimes  my  dreams  presage  too  true. 


6  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

Franklin 

To  such  as  note  their  nightly  fantasies, 
Some  one  in  twenty  may  incur  belief, 
But  use  it  not,  'tis  but  a  mockery. 

Alice  comes  down  the  staircase. 
Alice 

Husband,  what  mean  you  to  get  up  so  early? 
Summer-nights  are  short,  and  yet  you  rise  ere  day. 
Had  I  been  wake,  you  had  not  risen  so  soon. 

Arden 

Sweet  love,  thou  knowest  that  we  two,  Ovid-like, 

Have  often  chid  the  morning  when  it  'gan  to  peep, 

And  often  wished  that  dark  night's  purblind  steeds 

Would  pull  her  by  the  purple  mantle  back, 

And  cast  her  in  the  ocean  to  her  love. 

But  this  night,  sweet  Alice,  thou  hast  killed  my  heart : 

I  heard  thee  call  on  Mosbie  in  thy  sleep. 

Alice 

'T  is  like  I  was  asleep  when  I  named  him, 

For  being  awake  he  comes  not  in  my  thoughts. 

Arden 

Ay,  but  you  started  up  and  suddenly, 

Instead  of  him,  caught  me  about  the  neck. 

Alice 

Instead  of  him?  why,  who  was  there  but  you? 

And  where  but  one  is,  how  can  I  mistake? 

Franklin 

Arden,  leave  to  urge  her  over-far. 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  7 

Arden 

Nay,  love,  there  is  no  credit  in  a  dream; 

Let  it  suffice,  I  know  thou  lovest  me  well. 

Alice 

Now  I  remember  whereupon  it  came: 

Had  we  no  talk  of  Mosbie  yesternight? 

Franklin 

Mistress  Alice,  I  heard  you  name  him  once  or  twice. 

Alice 

And  thereof  came  it,  and  therefore  blame  not  me. 

Arden 

I  know  it  did,  and  therefore  let  it  pass. 
Franklin  and  I  will  down  unto  the  quay; 
For  I  have  certain  goods  there  to  unload. 
Meanwhile  prepare  our  breakfast,  gentle  Alice. 

[Arden  and  Franklin  go  out  by  the  porch  door. 
Alice 

Sweet  love,  come  soon.  O  that  some  airy  spirit 
Would  in  the  shape  and  likeness  of  a  horse 
Gallop  with  Arden  'cross  the  Ocean, 
And  throw  him  from  his  back  into  the  waves 
And  make  him  wise  in  death  that  lived  a  fool. 
Alas!  'tis  Mosbie  that  hath  won  my  heart: 
Arden  usurps  it,  having  nought  but  this, 
That  I  am  tied  to  him  by  marriage. 
Love  is  a  God,  and  marriage  is  but  words; 
And  is  not  Mosbie's  title  therefore  best? 
Tush !  whether  it  be  or  no,  he  shall  be  mine, 
In  spite  of  him,  of  Hymen,  and  of  rites. 
There  is  no  nectar,  but  in  Mosbie's  lips ! 


8  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

Had  chaste  Diana  kissed  him,  she  like  me 
Would  grow  love-sick,  and  from  her  watery  bower 
Fling  down  Endymion,  and  snatch  him  up. 

Michael  enters  from  the  passage. 
Michael 

He  whom  you  wot  of,  Mosbie,  Mistress  Alice, 
Is  come  to  town,  and  sends  you  word  by  me 
In  any  case  you  may  not  visit  him. 

Alice 

Not  visit  him? 

Michael 

No,  nor  take  no  knowledge  of  his  being  here. 

Alice 

But  tell  me,  is  he  angry  or  displeased? 

Michael 

It  should  seem  so,  for  he  is  wondrous  sad. 

Alice 

Were  he  as  mad  as  raving  Flercules, 

I  '11  see  him. 

Michael 
Nay,  then  — 

Alice 

Stay!  Michael,  stay! 

Ask  Mosbie  how  I  have  incurred  his  wrath ; 

Bear  him  from  me  these  pair  of  silver  dice, 

With  which  we  played  for  kisses  many  a  time, 

And  when  I  lost,  I  won,  and  so  did  he; — 

Such  winning  and  such  losing  Jove  send  me! 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  9 

And  bid  him,  if  his  love  do  not  decline, 
To  come  this  morning  but  along  my  door, 
And  as  a  stranger  but  salute  me  there : 
This  may  he  do  without  suspect  or  fear. 

Michael 

I'll  tell  him  what  you  say.  [Michael  goes  out. 

Alice 

Do,  and  one  day  I'll  make  amends  for  all. — 

I  know  he  loves  me  well,  but  dares  not  come, 

Because  my  husband  is  so  jealous, 

And  these  my  narrow-prying  neighbours  blab, 

Hinder  our  meetings  when  we  would  confer. 

But,  if  I  live,  then  thou  that  comes  by  stealth, 

Shalt  neither  fear  the  biting  speech  of  men, 

Nor  Arden's  looks.         [Mosbie  appears  in  the  passage. 

Mosbie  my  love! 

Mosbie 

Away,  I  say,  and  talk  not  to  me  now. 

Alice 

A  word  or  two,  sweetheart,  and  then  I  will. 

'Tis  yet  but  early  days,  thou  needst  not  fear. 

Mosbie 

Where  is  your  husband? 

Alice 

'Tis  now  high  water,  and  he  is  at  the  quay. 

Mosbie 

There  let  him  be;  henceforward  know  me  not. 


10  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

Alice 

Is  this  the  end  of  all  thy  solemn  oaths? 
Is  this  the  fruit  thy  reconcilement  buds? 
Have  I  for  this  given  thee  so  many  favours, 
Incurred  my  husband's  hate,  and,  out  alas! 
Made  shipwreck  of  mine  honour  for  thy  sake? 
And  dost  thou  say  "henceforward  know  me  not?" 
The  heavens  can  witness,  and  the  world  can  tell, 
Before  I  saw  that  falsehood  look  of  thine, 
'Fore  I  was  tangled  with  thy  'ticing  speech, 
Arden  to  me  was  dearer  than  my  soul, — 
And  shall  be  still:  base  peasant,  get  thee  gone, 
And  boast  not  of  thy  conquest  over  me, 
Gotten  by  witchcraft  and  mere  sorcery! 
For  what  hast  thou  to  countenance  my  love, 
Being  descended  of  a  noble  house, 
And  matched  already  with  a  gentleman 
Whose  servant  thou  may'st  be! — and  so  farewell. 

Mosbie 

Ungentle  and  unkind  Alice,  now  I  see 
That  which  I  ever  feared,  and  find  too  true: 
A  woman's  love  is  as  the  lightning-flame, 
Which  even  in  bursting  forth  consumes  itself. 
To  try  thy  constancy  have  I  been  strange; 
Would  I  had  never  tried,  but  lived  in  hope! 

Alice 

What  need'st  thou  try  me  whom  thou  ne'er  found  false  ? 

Mosbie 

Yet  pardon  me,  for  love  is  jealous. 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  11 

Alice 

So  lists  the  sailor  to  the  mermaid's  song, 

So  looks  the  traveller  to  the  basilisk : 

I  am  content  for  to  be  reconciled, 

And  that,  I  know,  will  be  mine  overthrow. 

Mosbie 

Thine  overthrow?  first  let  the  world  dissolve. 

Alice 

Nay,  Mosbie,  let  me  still  enjoy  thy  love, 
And  happen  what  will,  I  am  resolute. 
My  saving  husband  hoards  up  bags  of  gold 
To  make  our  homestead  rich,  and  now  is  he 
Gone  to  unload  the  goods  that  shall  be  thine, 
Why  should  he  thrust  his  sickle  in  our  corn, 
Or  what  hath  he  to  do  with  thee,  my  love, 
Or  govern  me  that  am  to  rule  myself? 
Forsooth,  for  credit  sake,  I  must  leave  thee! 
Nay,  he  must  leave  to  live  that  we  may  love, 
May  live,  may  love;  for  what  is  life  but  love? 
And  love  shall  last  as  long  as  life  remains, 
And  life  shall  end  before  my  love  depart. 

Mosbie 

Why,  what  is  love  without  true  constancy? 

Like  to  a  pillar  built  of  many  stones, 

Yet  neither  with  good  mortar  well  compact 

Nor  with  cement  to  fasten  it  in  the  joints, 

But  that  it  shakes  with  every  blast  of  wind, 

And,  being  touched,  straight  falls  unto  the  earth, 

And  buries  all  his  haughty  pride  in  dust. 

No,  let  our  love  be  rocks  of  adamant, 

Which  time  nor  place  nor  tempest  can  asunder. 


12  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

Alice 

Mosbie,  leave  protestations  now, 

And  let  us  bethink  us  what  we  have  to  do. 

Mosbie  and  Alice  go  out  by  the  staircase.  Susan  enters 
from  the  passage  and  prepares  the  table  for  breakfast; 
she  is  followed  by  Clarke. 

Susan 

Ah,  that  thou  couldst  be  secret! 

Clarke 

Let  it  suffice.  I  know  she  loves  me  well, 

And  fain  would  have  her  husband  made  away : 

Wherein,  trust  me,  she  shows  a  noble  mind, 

That  rather  than  shell  live  with  him  she  hates 

Shell  venture  life  and  die  with  him  she  loves. 

Susan 

This  well  I  know, 

That  nothing  would  enforce  her  to  the  deed 

But  love  of  thee.  Might  she  without  control 

Enjoy  thy  love,  then  Arden  should  not  die. 

Clarke 

But  seeing  she  cannot,  therefore  let  him  die. 
I  happened  on  a  painter  yesternight, 
The  only  cunning  man  of  Christendom ; 
For  he  can  temper  poison  with  his  oil, 
That  whoso  looks  upon  the  work  he  draws 
Shall,  with  the  beams  that  issue  from  his  sight, 
Suck  venom  to  his  breast  and  slay  himself. 
Let  him  then  draw  thy  mistress"*  counterfeit, 
That  Arden  may,  by  gazing  on  it,  perish. 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  13 

Susan 

Ay,  gentle  sir,  but  that  is  dangerous, 

For  thou,  or  I,  or  any  other  else, 

Coming  into  the  chamber  where  it  hangs  may  die. 

Clarke 

Ay,  but  she'll  have  it  covered  with  a  cloth 

And  hung  up  in  the  study  for  himself. 

Susan 

It  may  not  be,  for  when  the  picture's  drawn, 

Arden,  you  know,  might  come  and  show  it  me. 

Clarke 

I  do  remember  once  in  secret  talk 

He  told  me  how  he  could  compound  by  art 

A  crucifix  impoisoned. 

That  whoso  look  upon  it  should  wax  blind, 

And  with  the  scent  be  stifled,  that  ere  long 

He  should  die  poisoned  that  did  view  it  well. 

Now  let  him  make  me  such  a  crucifix, 

And  then  I  know  your  mistress  will  be  mine. 

Susan 

Nay,  I  am  loth  because  it  toucheth  other's  life, 

Besides,  no  way  in  reason  is  it  possible 

That  he  should  paint  and  draw  it  out  himself, 

The  colours  being  baleful  and  impoisoned, 

And  no  way  prejudice  himself  withal. 

Clarke 

Well  questioned,  wench,  but  yet  I'll  answer  you, 

And  easily,  for  I  can  tell  you  straight 

How  he  does  work  of  these  impoisoned  drugs. 


14.  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

He  fastens  on  his  spectacles  so  close 
As  nothing  can  offend  the  needed  sight. 
Then  as  he  puts  a  leaf  within  his  nose, 
So  puts  he  rhubarb  to  avoid  the  smell, 
And  softly  as  another  work  he  paints. 

Susan 

Enough!  Enough! 

Your  trick  of  poisoned  pictures  we  dislike; 

Some  other  poison  would  do  better  far. 

Clarke 

Ay,  such  as  might  be  put  into  his  broth, 

And  yet  in  taste  not  to  be  found  at  all. 

I  know  your  mind,  and  here  I  have  it  for  you. 

Put  but  a  dram  of  this  into  his  drink, 

Or  any  kind  of  broth  that  he  shall  eat, 

And  he  shall  die  within  an  hour  after. 

Susan 

And  as  I  am  her  waiting-maid,  next  day 

Thou  and  my  mistress  shall  be  married. 

Michael  enters  from  the  passage. 
Michael  [a$itfe] 
Now  who  is  this?  The  rhymester, 
He  who  Mistress  Susan  needs  would  win; 
And  I  to  humour  her  do  call  my  corrival. 

Clarke 

How  now,  Michael?  How  doth  your  mistress? 

Michael 

Who?  Susan  Mosbie?  She  is  your  mistress  too? 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  15 

Clarke 

Ay,  how  doth  she  and  all  the  rest? 

Michael 

All's  well  but  Susan;  she  is  sick. 

Susan 
Sick! 

Clarke 

Of  what  disease? 

Michael 

Of  a  great  fever. 

Clarke 
A  fever? 

Susan 
God  forbid! 

Michael 

Yes,  faith,  and  of  a  lordaine  *  too,  as  big  as  yourself. 

Susan 

Oh,  Michael,  the  spleen  prickles  you. 

Clarke 

Go  to,  you  carry  an  eye  over  Mistress  Susan. 

Michael 

I'  faith,  to  keep  her  from  the  rhymester. 

Clarke 

Why  more  from  a  rhymester  than  from  a  serving  creature 
like  yourself? 

*  Clown. 


16  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

Michael 

Because  you  rhymesters  can  spoil  her  beauty  with  blotting. 

Clarke 

And  but  another  word  will  cost  you  a  cuff  or  a  knock. 

Michael 

What,  with  a  dagger  made  of  a  pencil  ? 
Faith,  'tis  too  weak,  and  therefore  thou  too  weak  to  win 
Susan. 

Clarke 

Would  Susan's  love  lay  upon  this  stroke. 

[He  boxes  Michael's  ears. 
Susan 
I'll  lay  my  life  'tis  not  for  Susan's  love! 

Arden  and  Franklin  return  by  the  porch  door;  Su- 
san, Clarke,  and  Michael  run  down  the  passage. 
Arden 

No,  Franklin,  no :  if  fear  or  stormy  threats, 
If  love  of  me  or  care  of  womanhood, 
If  fear  of  God  or  common  speech  of  men, 
Who  mangle  credit  with  their  wounding  words, 
And  couch  dishonour  as  dishonour  buds, 
Might  join  repentance  in  her  wanton  thoughts. 
No  question  then  but  she  would  turn  the  leaf 
And  sorrow  for  her  dissolution ; 
But  she  is  rooted  in  her  wickedness, 
Perverse  and  stubborn,  not  to  be  reclaimed; 
Good  counsel  is  to  her  as  rain  to  weeds, 
And  reprehension  makes  her  vice  to  grow 
As  Hydra's  head  that  plenished  by  decay. 
Her  faults,  methink,  are  painted  in  my  face, 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  17 

For  every  searching  eye  to  overread; 
And  Mosbie's  name,  a  scandal  unto  mine, 
Is  deeply  trenched  in  my  blushing  brow. 
Ah,  Franklin,  Franklin,  when  I  think  on  this, 
My  heart's  grief  rends  my  other  powers 
Worse  than  the  conflict  at  the  hour  of  death. 

Franklin 

Gentle  Arden,  leave  this  sad  lament: 

She  will  amend,  and  so  your  griefs  will  cease ; 

Or  else  she'll  die,  and  so  your  sorrows  end. 

If  neither  of  these  two  do  haply  fall, 

Yet  let  your  comfort  be  that  others  bear 

Your  woes,  twice  doubled  all,  with  patience. 

* 

Arden 

My  house  is  irksome;  here  I  cannot  rest. 

Franklin 

Then  come  with  me  to  London;  stay  not  here. 

Arden 

Then  that  base  Mosbie  doth  usurp  my  room 
And  makes  his  triumph  of  my  being  thence. 
At  home  or  not  at  home,  where'er  I  be, 
Here,  here  it  lies,  ah,  Franklin,  here  it  lies 
That  will  not  out  till  wretched  Arden  dies. 

[Arden  buries  Jus  face  in  his  hands. 
Franklin 

Ah,  what  a  hell  is  fretful  jealousy ! 
What  pity-moving  words,  what  deep-fetched  sighs, 
What  grievous  groans  and  overlading  woes 
Accompanies  this  gentle  gentleman! 
Now  will  he  shake  his  care-oppressed  head, 


18  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

Then  fix  his  sad  eyes  on  the  sullen  earth, 
Ashamed  to  gaze  upon  the  open  world; 
Now  will  he  cast  his  eyes  up  towards  the  heaven, 
Looking  that  way  for  redress  of  wrong: 
Sometimes  he  seeketh  to  beguile  his  grief 
And  tells  a  story  with  his  careful  tongue; 
Then  comes  his  wife's  dishonour  in  his  thoughts 
And  in  the  middle  cutteth  off  his  tale, 
Pouring  fresh  sorrow  on  his  weary  limbs. 
So  woe-begone,  so  inly  charged  with  woe, 
Was  never  any  lived  and  bare  it  so. 

Alice  and  Mosbie  return  by  the  staircase. 
Alice 

In  good  time  see  where  my  husband  is, 
Master  Mosbie,  ask  him  the  question  yourself. 

Mosbie 

Master  Arden,  being  at  London  yesternight, 

The  Abbey  lands,  whereof  you  are  now  possessed, 

Were  offered  me  on  some  occasion 

By  Greene,  one  of  Sir  Antony  Ager's  men : 

I  pray  you,  sir,  tell  me,  are  not  the  lands  yours? 

Hath  any  other  interest  herein? 

Arden 

Mosbie,  that  question  we'll  decide  anon. 

Alice,  make  ready  my  breakfast,  I  must  hence. 

[Alice  goes  down  the  passage. 
As  for  the  lands,  Mosbie,  they  are  mine 
By  letters  patents  from  his  Majesty. 
But  I  must  have  a  mandate  for  my  wife; 
They  say  you  seek  to  rob  me  of  her  love: 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  19 

Villain,  what  makes  thou  in  her  company? 
She's  no  companion  for  so  base  a  groom. 

Mosbie 

Arden,  I  thought  not  on  her,  I  came  to  thee; 

But  rather  than  I  pocket  up  this  wrong — 

Franklin 

What  will  you  do,  sir? 

Mosbie 

Revenge  it  on  the  proudest  of  you  both. 

[Arden  draws  Mosbie's  sword  oat  of  its  scabbard. 
Arden 

So,  sirrah;  you  may  not  wear  a  sword, 
The  statute  makes  against  artificers; 
I  warrant  that  I  do.  Now  use  your  bodkin, 
Your  Spanish  needle,  and  your  pressing  iron, 
For  this  shall  go  with  me;  and  mark  my  words, 
You  goodman  botcher,  'tis  to  you  I  speak: 
The  next  time  that  I  take  thee  near  my  house, 
Instead  of  legs  I'll  make  thee  crawl  on  stumps. 

Mosbie 

Ah,  Master  Arden,  you  have  injured  me: 

I  do  appeal  to  God  and  to  the  world. 

Franklin 

Why,  canst  thou  deny  thou  wert  a  botcher  once? 

Mosbie 

Measure  me  what  I  am,  not  what  I  was. 

Arden 

Why,  what  art  thou  now  but  a  velvet  drudge, 

A  cheating  steward,  and  base-minded  peasant? 


20  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

MOSBIE 

Arden,  now  thou  hast  belched  and  vomited 
The  rancorous  venom  of  thy  mis-swoll'n  heart, 
Hear  me  but  speak:  as  I  intend  to  live 
With  God  and  his  elected  saints  in  heaven, 
I  never  meant  more  to  solicit  her; 
And  that  she  knows,  and  all  the  world  shall  see. 
I  loved  her  once — sweet  Arden,  pardon  me, 
I  could  not  choose,  her  beauty  fired  my  heart, 
But  time  hath  quenched  these  over-raging  coals; 
And,  Arden,  though  I  now  frequent  thy  house, 
'Tis  for  my  sister's  sake,  her  waiting-maid, 
And  not  for  hers.  Mayest  thou  enjoy  her  long: 
Hell-fire  and  wrathful  vengeance  light  on  me, 
If  I  dishonour  her  or  injure  thee. 

Arden 

Mosbie,  with  these  thy  protestations 

The  deadly  hatred  of  my  heart's  appeased, 

And  thou  and  I  '11  be  friends,  if  this  prove  true. 

As  for  the  base  terms  I  gave  thee  late, 

Forget  them,  Mosbie;  I  had  cause  to  speak, 

When  all  the  knights  and  gentlemen  of  Kent 

Make  common  table  talk  of  her  and  thee. 

Mosbie 

Who  lives  that  is  not  touched  with  slanderous  tongues? 

F^RANKLIN 

Then,  Mosbie,  to  eschew  the  speech  of  men, 
Upon  whose  general  bruit  all  honour  hangs, 
Forbear  his  house. 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  21 

Arden 

Forbear  it!  nay,  rather  frequent  it  more: 
The  world  shall  see  that  I  distrust  her  not, 
To  warn  him  on  the  sudden  from  my  house 
Were  to  confirm  the  rumour  that  is  grown. 

Mosbie 

By  my  faith,  sir,  you  say  true, 

And  therefore  will  I  sojourn  here  a  while, 

Until  our  enemies  have  talked  their  fill; 

And  then,  I  hope,  they'll  cease,  and  at  last  confess 

How  causeless  they  have  injured  her  and  me. 

Alice  returns  with  Susan  and  Michael  who  are  car- 
rying the  breakfast. 
Alice 
Husband,  sit  down;  your  breakfast  will  be  cold. 

Arden 

Come,  Master  Mosbie,  will  you  sit  with  us? 

Mosbie 

I  cannot  eat,  but  I  '11  sit  for  company. 

[They  sit  and  Arden  eats  some  porridge. 
Arden 

Sirrah  Michael,  see  our  horse  be  ready. 
Come,  Master  Franklin,  onwards  with  your  tale. 

Franklin 

Do  you  remember  where  my  tale  did  leave? 

Arden 

Ay,  where  the  gentleman  did  check  his  wife. 

Franklin 

Pardon  me,  Master  Arden,  but  not  now. 


22  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

Arden 

Nay!  a  pretty  tale  beguiles — 

Alice 

Husband,  why  pause  ye?  why  eat  you  not? 

Arden 

I  am  not  well;  there's  something  in  this  porridge — 

A  heavy  blood  is  gathered  at  my  heart, 

And  in  the  sudden  is  my  wind  so  short — 

This  is  not  wholesome:  didst  thou  make  it,  Alice? 

Alice 

I  did,  and  that 's  the  cause  it  likes  not  you. 

[She  snatches  up  his  bowl  of  por- 
ridge and  throws  it  on  the  ground. 
There's  nothing  that  I  do  can  please  your  taste; 
You  were  best  to  say  I  would  have  poisoned  you. 
I  cannot  speak  or  cast  aside  my  eye, 
But  he  imagines  I  have  stepped  awry. 
Here's  he  that  you  cast  in  my  teeth  so  oft: 
I  charge  thee  speak  to  this  mistrustful  man, 
Thou  that  wouldst  see  me  hang,  thou,  Mosbie,  thou : 
What  favour  hast  thou  had  more  than  a  kiss 
At  coming  or  departing  from  the  town? 

Mosbie 

You  wrong  yourself  and  me  to  cast  these  doubts : 

Your  loving  husband  is  not  jealous. 

Arden 

Why,  gentle  Mistress  Alice,  cannot  I  be  ill 

But  you'll  accuse  yourself?  [All  rise. 

Franklin,  thou  hast  a  box  of  mithridate ; 

I'll  take  a  little  to  prevent  the  worst. 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  23 

Franklin 

Do  so,  and  let  us  presently  take  horse; 

My  life  for  yours,  ye  shall  do  well  enough. 

Alice 

Give  me  a  spoon,  I'll  eat  of  it  myself; 
Would  it  were  full  of  poison  to  the  brim, 
Then  should  my  cares  and  troubles  have  an  end. 
Was  ever  silly  woman  so  tormented? 

Arden 

Be  patient,  sweet  love;  I  mistrust  not  thee. 

Alice 

God  will  revenge  it,  Arden,  if  thou  dost; 
For  never  woman  loved  her  husband  better 
Than  I  do  thee. 

Arden 

I  know  it,  sweet  Alice;  cease  to  complain, 
Lest  that  in  tears  I  answer  thee  again. 
The  season  fits;  come,  Franklin,  let's  away. 

Alice 

I  thought  you  did  pretend  some  special  hunt, 

That  made  you  thus  cut  short  the  time  of  rest. 

Arden 

It  was  no  chase  that  made  me  rise  so  early, 

But,  as  I  told  thee  yesternight,  to  go 

To  the  Isle  of  Sheppy,  there  to  dine  with  my  Lord 

Cheiny ; 
For  so  his  honour  late  commanded  me. 

Alice 

Ay,  such  kind  husbands  seldom  want  excuses; 


24  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

Home  is  a  wild  cat  to  a  wandering  wit. 

The  time  hath  been, — would  God  it  were  not  past, — 

That  honour's  title  nor  a  lord's  command 

Could  once  have  drawn  you  from  these  arms  of  mine. 

But  my  deserts  or  your  desires  decay, 

Or  both ;  yet  if  true  love  may  seem  desert, 

I  merit  still  to  have  thy  company, 

Franklin 

Why,  I  pray  you,  sir,  let  her  go  along  with  us; 

I  am  sure  his  honour  will  welcome  her 

And  us  the  more  for  bringing  her  along. 

Arden 

Content;  sirrah,  saddle  your  mistress'  nag. 

Alice 

No !  Begged  favour  merits  little  thanks ; 
If  I  should  go,  our  house  would  run  away, 
Or  else  be  stolen;  therefore  I'll  stay  behind. 

Arden 

Nay,  see  how  mistaking  you  are !  I  pray  thee,  go. 

Alice 

No,  no,  not  now. 

Arden 

Then  let  me  leave  thee  satisfied  in  this, 
That  time  nor  place  nor  persons  alter  me, 
But  that  I  hold  thee  dearer  than  my  life. 

Alice 

That  by  your  quick  return  will  soon  be  seen. 

Farewell,  husband,  seeing  you'll  have  it  so; 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  25 

And,  Master  Franklin,  seeing  you  take  him  hence, 
In  hope  you'll  hasten  him  home,  I'll  give  you  this. 

[Kisses  him. 
Franklin 

And  if  he  stay,  the  fault  shall  not  be  mine. 

Mosbie,  farewell,  and  see  you  keep  your  oath. 

Mosbie 

I  hope  he  is  not  jealous  of  me  now. 

Arden 

No,  Mosbie,  no ;  hereafter  think  of  me 

As  of  your  dearest  friend,  and  so  farewell. 

Franklin 

Come,  Michael,  are  our  horses  ready? 

Michael 

Ay,  your  horses  are  ready,  but  I  am  not  ready,  for  I  have 

lost  my  purse  with  six  and  thirty  shillings  in't. 

Franklin 

Why,  I  pray  you,  let  us  go  before,  while  he  stays  behind 

to  seek  his  purse. 

Arden 

Go  to,  sirrah !  See  you  follow  us  to  the  Isle  of  Sheppy, 

To  my  Lord  Cheiny's,  where  we  mean  to  dine. 

[Arden  and  Franklin  go  out  by  the  porch. 

Michael  [at  the  porch  door] 

So  fare  weather  after  you,  for  before  you  lies  Black  Will 
and  Shakebag  in  the  alehouse  close,  too  close  for  you : 
they'll  be  your  ferrymen  to  long  home. 

[Michael  goes  out  by  the  passage.  Alice  and 
Mosbie  look  at  each  other  for  a  moment  in  silence. 


26  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

Alice 

Why,  he 's  as  well  now  as  he  was  before. 

Mosbie 

But  had  he  eaten  but  three  spoonfuls  more 

Then  had  he  died,  and  so  our  love  continued. 

Alice 

Why,  so  it  shall,  Mosbie,  albeit  he  live. 

Mosbie 

It  is  impossible,  for  I  have  sworn 

Never  hereafter  to  solicit  thee, 

Or,  whilst  he  lives,  once  more  importune  thee. 

Alice 

Thou  shalt  not  need,  I  will  importune  thee. 
What,  shall  an  oath  make  thee  forsake  my  love? 
As  if  I  have  not  sworn  as  much  myself 
And  given  my  hand  unto  him  in  the  church! 
Tush,  Mosbie;  oaths  are  words,  and  words  is  wind, 
And  wind  is  mutable:  then,  I  conclude, 
'Tis  childishness  to  stand  upon  an  oath. 

Mosbie 

Well  proved,  Mistress  Alice;  yet  by  your  leave 

I  '11  keep  mine  unbroken  whilst  he  lives. 

Alice 

I  Ve  such  good  news  that  I  must  laugh  with  joy 

Before  I  can  begin  my  tale. 

Mosbie 

Let 's  hear  them,  that  I  may  laugh  for  company. 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  27 

Alice 

Last  morning,  Master  Greene,  Dick  Greene  I  mean, 

From  whom  my  husband  had  the  Abbey  land, 

Came  hither,  railing,  for  to  know  the  truth 

Whether  my  husband  had  the  lands  by  grant. 

I  told  him  all,  whereat  he  stormed  amain 

And  swore  he  would  cry  quittance  with  the  churl, 

And,  if  he  did  deny  his  interest, 

Stab  him,  whatsoever  did  befall  himself. 

Whenas  I  saw  his  choler  thus  to  rise, 

I  whetted  on  the  gentleman  with  words; 

And,  to  conclude,  Mosbie,  at  last  he  grew 

To  composition  for  my  husband's  death. 

I  gave  him  ten  pounds  for  to  hire  knaves, 

By  some  device  to  make  away  the  churl; 

When  he  is  dead  he  shall  have  twenty  more, 

And  repossess  his  former  lands  again. 

On  this  we  'greed,  and  he  is  plotting  straight. 

Mosbie 

But  call  you  this  good  news? 

Alice 

Ay,  sweetheart,  be  they  not? 

Mosbie 

'Twere  cheerful  news  to  hear  the  churl  were  dead; 

But  trust  me,  Alice,  I  take  it  passing  ill 

You  would  be  so  forgetful  of  our  state 

To  make  recount  of  it  to  every  groom. 

What!  to  acquaint  each  stranger  with  our  drifts, 

Chiefly  in  case  of  murder,  why,  'tis  the  way 

To  make  it  open  unto  Arden's  self 

And  bring  thyself  and  me  to  ruin  both. 


28  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

Forewarned,  forearmed;  who  threats  his  enemy 
Lends  him  a  sword  to  guard  himself  withal. 

Alice 

I  did  it  for  the  best. 

Mosbie 

Well,  seeing  'tis  done,  cheerly  let  it  pass. 
You  know  this  Greene;  is  he  not  religious? 
A  man,  I  guess,  of  great  devotion  ? 

Alice 
He  is. 

Mosbie 

'Twill  serve  the  turn. 
Now,  Alice,  let's  in  and  see  what  cheer  you  keep. 

Alice 

Mosbie,  you  know,  who's  master  of  my  heart, 

He  well  may  be  the  master  of  the  house. 

Alice  and  Mosbie  go  out  by  the  staircase;  Michael 
returns  by  the  passage  with  Susan;  she  clears  the 
breakfast  table. 
Michael 

Ah,  Mistress  Susan,  abolish  that  paltry  rhymester;  cut 
him  off  by  the  shins  with  a  frowning  look  of  your 
crabbed  countenance,  and  think  upon  Michael,  who 
drunk  with  the  dregs  of  your  favour,  will  cleave  as  fast 
to  your  love  as  a  plaster  of  pitch  to  a  galled  horseback. 
I  hope  you'll  think  on  me. 

Susan 

Ay ;  but,  good  Michael,  see  you  keep  your  oath, 

As  you  are  resolute,  be  you  as  secret. 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  29 

Michael 

I  '11  see  he  shall  not  live  above  a  week. 

Susan 

On  that  condition,  Michael,  know  in  truth 

None  shall  have  Mosbie's  sister  but  thyself. 

Michael 

Nay,  but  they  say  that  rhymester  here  hard  by 

Hath  made  report  that  he  and  you  are  sure. 

Susan 

There 's  no  such  matter,  Michael ;  believe  it  not. 

Michael 

But  he  hath  sent  a  dagger  sticking  in  a  heart, 

With  a  verse  or  two  stolen  from  a  painted  cloth, 

The  which  I  hear  thou  keepest  in  thy  chest. 

Well,  keep  it  there!  I  shall  find  a  fellow 

That  can  both  write  and  read  and  make  rhymes  too. 

And  if  I  do  —  well,  I  say  no  more: 

For  I  will  send  thee  such  a  taunting  letter 

As  thou  shalt  eat  the  heart  he  sent  with  salt, 

And  fling  the  dagger  at  this  rhymester's  head. 

Susan 

What  needs  all  this?  I  say  that  I  am  thine. 

Michael 

Why,  then,  I  say  that  I  will  kill  thy  master, 

Or  anything  that  thou  wilt  have  me  do. 

Susan 

But,  Michael,  see  you  do  it  cunningly. 


SO  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

Michael 

Why,  say  I  should  be  took,  I'll  ne'er  confess 

That  you  know  anything;  and  since  you  are  a  maid, 

You'll  beg  me  from  the  gallows  of  the  sheriff. 

Susan 

Trust  not  to  that,  Michael. 

Michael 

You  cannot  tell,  and  I  have  seen  it,  I. 

But  Susan  knows,  whether  I  live  or  die, 

I'll  make  her  worth  more  than  that  rhymester  can. 

For  I  will  rid  mine  elder  brother  away, 

And  then  the  farm  of  Bolton  will  be  mine, 

Who  would  not  venture  upon  house  and  land 

When  he  may  have  it  for  a  right  down  blow? 

[The  porch  door  opens. 
Susan 

Yonder  comes  Greene.  Michael,  get  thee  gone, 
And  let  not  him  nor  any  know  thy  drift. 

Michael  [o^'die] 

Shall  I  be  married  to  so  base  a  trull 

As  Mosbie's  sister?  Nay,  not  I.  Squire  Franklin 

Shall  rouse  her  from  remaining  in  this  house. 

Both  she  and  Mosbie,  Clarke  and  Greene  and  all, 

A  crew  of  harlots ! 

Michael  goes  down  the  passage;  Greene  enters  by 

the  porch  door. 
Greene 

Ah,  Mistress  Susan,  now  well  met  in  faith. 
And  so  I  hear  your  master  is  from  home. 
But  where 's  your  mistress,  may  I  speak  with  her? 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  31 

Susan 

What  is  it,  Master  Greene  ?  If  that  I  may 

Or  can  with  safety,  I  will  answer  you. 

Greene 

Your  master  does  me  wrong 

To  wring  me  from  the  little  land  I  have 

And  what  is  left  remainder  of  my  portion 

Which  is  my  life,  alas!  Ay,  only  that. 

Desire  of  wealth  is  endless  in  his  mind, 

And  he  is  greedy — gaping  still  for  gain; 

Nor  cares  he  though  young  gentlemen  do  beg, 

So  he  may  scrape  and  hoard  up  in  his  pouch. 

But,  seeing  he  hath  ta'en  my  lands,  I'll  value  life 

As  careless  as  he  is  careful  for  to  get; 

And  tell  your  mistress  that  I  am  revenged, 

And  so  shell  hear  within  this  hour  at  most. 

Susan 

Alas,  poor  gentleman,  I  pity  you, 

And  woe  is  me  that  any  man  should  want! 

God  knows  't  is  not  her  fault ;  but  wonder  not 

Though  he  be  hard  to  others,  when  to  my  mistress 

Ah,  Master  Greene,  God  knows  how  she  is  used. 

Greene 

Why,  Mistress  Susan,  can  the  crabbed  churl 
Use  her  unkindly?  Respects  he  not  her  birth, 
Her  honourable  friends,  nor  what  she  brought? 
Nor  parentage?  Why,  all  Kent  knows  her  worth. 

Susan 

Ah,  Master  Greene,  be  it  spoken  in  secret  here, 

She  never  lives  good  day  with  him  alone: 


32  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

When  he's  at  home,  then  has  she  fro  ward  looks, 

Hard  words  and  blows  to  mend  the  match  withal; 

And  though  she  might  content  as  good  a  man, 

Yet  doth  he  keep  in  every  corner  trulls; 

And  when  he  wearies  of  his  trugs  at  home, 

Then  rides  he  straight  to  London;  there,  forsooth, 

He  revels  it  among  such  filthy  ones 

As  counsels  him  to  make  away  his  wife. 

Thus  live  she  daily  in  continual  fear, 

In  sorrow ;  so  despairing  of  redress 

As  every  day  she  wish  with  hearty  prayer 

That  he  or  she  were  taken  from  the  world. 

Greene 

Now  trust  me,  Mistress  Susan;  it  grieveth  me 

So  fair  a  creature  should  be  so  abused. 

Why,  who  would  have  thought  the  civil  sir  so  sullen 

He  looks  so  smoothly.  Now,  fie  upon  him,  churl! 

And  if  he  live  a  day,  he  lives  too  long. 

Susan 

But  speak  you  as  you  think? 

Greene 

Ay,  God's  my  witness;  I  mean  plain  dealing 

So  she  keep  promise  with  me  about  my  land. 

Susan 

Or  count  her  false,  or  perjured  whilst  I  live. 

[The  porch  door  opens  sloitfy. 
Greene 

But  here's  Black  Will.  Perchance  — 
You  shall  hear  more  anon.  I'll  follow  you. 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  33 

Susan 

Good  fortune  follow  all  your  forward  thoughts. 

Susan   leaves  by  the  passage   as    Black  Will  and 

Shakebag  enter  by  the  porch  door. 
Greene 
What,  is  he  down,  is  he  dispatched? 

Shakebag 

Ay,  in  health  towards  Surland  to  shame  us  all. 

Greene 

The  devil  he  is!  why,  sirs,  how  escaped  he? 

Shakebag 

When  we  were  ready  to  shoot, 

Comes  my  Lord  Cheiny  to  prevent  his  death. 

Greene 

The  Lord  of  Heaven  hath  preserved  him ! 

Will 

Preserved  a  fig!  the  Lord  Cheiny  hath  preserved  him, 

And  bids  him  to  a  feast  to  his  house  at  Surland. 

Greene 

What!  dare  you  not  do  it? 

Will 

Yes,  sir,  we  dare  do  it;  but,  were  my  consent  to  give 
again,  we  would  not  do  it  under  ten  pound  more.  I 
value  every  drop  of  my  blood  at  a  French  crown.  I  have 
had  ten  pound  to  steal  a  dog,  and  we  have  no  more  here 
to  kill  a  man;  but  that  a  bargain  is  a  bargain,  and  so 
forth,  you  should  do  it  yourself. 


34  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

Greene 

I  pray  thee,  how  came  thy  head  broke? 

Will 

Why,  thou  seest  it  is  broke,  dost  thou  not? 

Shakebag 

But  forbearance  is  no  acquittance;  another  time  we'll  do 

it,  I  warrant  thee. 

Greene 

I  pray  thee,  Will,  make  clean  thy  bloody  brow, 
And  let  us  think  upon  some  other  place 
Where  Arden  may  be  met  with  handsomely. 
Remember  how  devoutly  thou  hast  sworn 
To  kill  the  villain ;  think  upon  thine  oath. 

Will 

Tush,  I  have  broken  five-hundred  oaths! 

But  wouldst  thou  charm  me  to  effect  this  deed, 

Tell  me  of  gold,  my  resolution's  fee; 

Say  thou  seest  Mosbie  kneeling  at  my  knees, 

Offering  me  service  for  my  high  attempt; 

And  sweet  Alice  Arden,  with  a  lap  of  crowns, 

Comes  with  a  lowly  curtsey  to  the  earth, 

Saying  "Take  this  but  for  thy  quarterage, 

Such  yearly  tribute  will  I  answer  thee."" 

Why,  this  would  steel  soft-mettled  cowardice, 

With  which  Black  Will  was  never  tainted  yet. 

I  tell  thee,  Greene,  the  forlorn  traveller, 

Whose  lips  are  glued  with  summer's  parching  heat, 

Ne'er  longed  so  much  to  see  a  running  brook 

As  I  to  finish  Arden's  tragedy. 

Seest  thou  this  gore  that  cleaveth  to  my  face? 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  35 

From  hence  ne'er  will  I  wash  this  bloody  stain, 
Till  Arden's  heart  be  panting  in  my  hand. 

Greene 

Why,  that's  well  said;  but  what  saith  Shakebag? 

Shakebag 

I  cannot  paint  my  valour  out  with  words: 

But,  give  me  place  and  opportunity, 

Such  mercy  as  the  starven  lioness, 

When  she  is  dry  sucked  of  her  eager  young, 

Shows  to  the  prey  that  next  encounters  her, 

On  Arden  so  much  pity  would  I  take. 

Greene 

So  should  it  fare  with  men  of  firm  resolve. 

Michael  returns  by  the  passage. 
Michael 

How  now,  Master  Shakebag  ?  what,  Black  Will ! 
God's  dear  lady,  how  chance  your  face  is  so  bloody? 

Will 

Go  to,  sirrah,  there  is  a  chance  in  it;  this  sauciness  in 

you  will  make  you  be  knocked. 

Michael 

Nay,  an  you  be  offended,  I'll  be  gone. 

Greene 

Stay,  Michael,  you  may  not  escape  us  so. 

Michael,  I  know  you  love  your  master  well. 

Michael 

Why,  so  I  do;  but  wherefore  urge  you  that? 


36  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

Greene 

Because  I  think  you  love  your  mistress  better. 

Michael 

So  think  not  I;  but  say,  i'  faith,  what  if  I  should? 

Shakebag 

Come  to  the  purpose,  Michael;  we  hear 

You  have  a  pretty  love  in  Faversham. 

Michael 

Why,  have  I  two  or  three,  what's  that  to  thee! 

Will 

You  deal  too  mildly  with  the  peasant.  Thus  it  is; 
'T  is  known  to  us  that  you  love  Mosbie's  sister ; 
We  know  besides  that  you  have  ta'en  your  oath 
To  further  Mosbie  to  your  mistress'  house 
And  kill  your  master  for  his  sister's  sake. 
Now,  sir,  a  poorer  coward  than  yourself 
Was  never  fostered  in  the  coast  of  Kent : 
How  comes  it  then  that  such  a  knave  as  you 
Dare  swear  a  matter  of  such  consequence? 

Greene 
Ah,  Will— 

Will 

Tush,  give  me  leave,  there's  no  more  but  this: 

Sith  thou  hast  sworn,  we  dare  discover  all; 

And  hadst  thou  or  should'st  thou  utter  it, 

We  have  devised  a  complat  under  hand, 

Whatever  shall  betide  to  any  of  us, 

To  send  thee  roundly  to  the  devil  of  hell. 

And  therefore  thus :  /  am  the  very  man, 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  37 

Marked  in  my  birth-hour  by  the  destinies, 
To  give  an  end  to  Arden's  life  on  earth ; 
Thou  but  a  member  but  to  whet  the  knife 
Whose  edge  must  serve  the  closet  of  his  breast: 
Thy  office  is  but  to  appoint  the  place, 
And  train  thy  master  to  his  tragedy; 
Mine  to  perform  it  when  occasion  serves. 
Then  be  not  nice,  but  here  devise  with  us 
How  and  what  way  we  may  conclude  his  death. 

Shakebag 

So  shalt  thou  purchase  Mosbie  for  thy  friend, 

And  by  his  friendship  gain  his  sister's  love. 

Greene 

So  shall  thy  mistress  be  thy  favourer, 

And  thou  disburdened  of  the  oath  thou  made. 

Michael 

Well,  gentlemen,  I  cannot  but  confess, 

Sith  you  have  urged  me  so  apparently, 

That  I  have  vowed  my  master  Arden's  death; 

And  he  whose  kindly  love  and  liberal  hand 

Doth  challenge  nought  but  good  deserts  of  me, 

I  will  deliver  over  to  your  hands. 

Shakebag 

Come,  Will,  see  thy  tools  be  in  a  readiness! 

Is  not  thy  powder  dank,  or  will  thy  flint  strike  fire? 

Will 

Then  ask  me  if  my  nose  be  on  my  face, 

Or  whether  my  tongue  be  frozen  in  my  mouth. 

Zounds,  here 's  a  coil ! 

You  were  best  swear  me  on  the  interrogatories 


38  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

How  many  pistols  I  have  took  in  hand, 
Or  whether  I  love  the  smell  of  gunpowder, 
Or  dare  abide  the  noise  the  dag*  will  make, 
Or  will  not  wink  at  flashing  of  the  fire. 
I  pray  thee,  Shakebag,  let  this  answer  thee, 
That  I  have  took  more  purses  on  a  down 
Than  e'er  thou  handledst  pistols  in  thy  life. 

Shakebag 

Ay,  haply  thou  hast  picked  more  in  a  throng: 
But,  should  I  brag  what  booties  I  have  took, 
I  think  the  overplus  that's  more  than  thine 
Would  mount  to  a  greater  sum  of  money 
Then  either  thou  or  all  thy  kin  are  worth. 
Zounds,  I  hate  them  as  I  hate  a  toad 
That  carry  a  muscado  in  their  tongue, 
And  scarce  a  hurting  weapon  in  their  hand. 

Will 

0  Greene,  intolerable ! 

It  is  not  for  mine  honour  to  bear  this. 

Why,  Shakebag,  I  did  serve  the  king  at  Boulogne, 

And  thou  canst  brag  of  nothing  that  thou  hast  done. 

Shakebag 

Why,  so  can  Jack  of  Faversham, 

That  sounded  for  a  fillip  on  the  nose, 

When  he  that  gave  it  him  holloed  in  his  ear, 

And  he  supposed  a  cannon  bullet  hit  him. 

Greene 

1  pray  you,  sirs,  list  to  ^Esop's  talk: 

Whilst  two  stout  dogs  were  striving  for  a  bone, 

*  A  pistol. 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  39 

There  comes  a  cur  and  stole  it  from  them  both; 

So,  while  you  stand  striving  on  these  terms  of  manhood, 

Arden  escapes  us,  and  deceives  us  all. 

Shakebag 
Why,  he  begun. 

Will 

And  thou  shalt  find  I'll  end; 

I  do  but  slip  it  until  better  time: 

But,  if  I  do  forget — 

[Will  kneels  as  if  protesting  before  Heaven. 

Greene 

Well,  take  your  fittest  standings,  and  once  more 

Lime  well  your  twigs  to  catch  this  wary  bird. 

Shakebag 

He 's  dead  as  if  he  had  been  condemned  by  Act  of  Par- 
liament, if  once  Black  Will  and  I  swear  his  death. 

Greene 

But,  sirs,  be  sure  to  speed  him  when  he  comes. 

Shakebag 

If  he  be  not  paid  his  own,  ne'er  trust  Shakebag. 

Will 

My  fingers  itches  to  be  at  the  peasant, 

Ah !  that  I  might  be  set  awork  thus  through  the  year, 
and  that  murder  would  grow  to  an  occupation  that  a 
man  might  follow  without  danger  of  law. 

Greene 

But  brawl  not  when  I  am  gone,  in  any  case. 

And  now  I'll  leave  you  till  the  deed  be  done. 

[Greener  out  by  the  porch  door. 


40  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

Will 

Sirrah,   Shakebag,  at  his  coming  home  I'll  run  him 

through, 
And  then  to  the  quay,  and  there  take  water  and  away. 

Shakebag 

And  see  thou  miss  him  not. 

Greene  returns. 
Greene 

Ay,  and  excuse  yourselves  to  Mistress  Arden, 
O,  how  she  '11  chafe  when  she  shall  hear  of  this. 

Susan  enters  with  lights. 
Will 

Zounds,  I  could  kill  myself  for  very  anger, 
His  lordship  chops  me  in, 
Even  when  my  dag  was  levelled  at  his  heart. 

Greene 

Why,  I'll  warrant  you  she'll  think  you  dare  not  do  it. 

Shakebag 

Arden  he  has  wondrous  holy  luck. 

Did  ever  man  escape  as  he  has  done? 

Susan 

Fie,  what  a  mist  there  is! 

Greene 

And  this  same  mist,  good  Sue,  is  mystical. 

Like  to  a  pothouse  stinkard's  brain, 

That  was  half  drowned  with  new  ale  over-night. 

Susan 

'Twere  pity  but  his  skull  were  opened  to  make  more 
chimney-room. 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  41 

Will  [at porch  door] 

Did  you  ever  see  such  a  mist  as  this? 

Susan 

Nor  two  such  cowards,  so  will  my  mistress  say. 

Will 

Then  let  us  wait  and  tell  her  all  the  matter, 
And  plot  the  news  to  cut  him  off  to-morrow. 
Come,  Shakebag,  we  '11  go  drink  and  then  return. 

Greene 

Now  ye  have  missed  the  mark  of  your  intent ! 

[Black  Will,  Shakebag,  and  Greener  out 
by  the  porch  door;  Susan  retires  down  the  passage. 

Michael  [alone] 

That  grim-faced  fellow,  pitiless  Black  Will, 

And  Shakebag,  stern  in  bloody  stratagem, 

— Two  rougher  ruffians  never  lived  in  Kent, — 

Have  sworn  my  death,  if  I  infringe  my  vow, 

A  dreadful  thing  to  be  considered  of. 

My  Master's  kindness  pleads  to  me  for  life 

With  just  demand  and  I  must  grant  it  him. 

Methinks  I  see  them  with  their  bolstered  hair 

Staring  and  grinning  in  my  master's  face, 

And  in  their  ruthless  hands  their  daggers  drawn, 

Insulting  o'er  him  with  a  peck  of  oaths, 

Whilst  he  submissive,  pleading  for  relief, 

Is  mangled  by  their  ireful  instruments. 

Methinks  I  hear  them  ask  where  Michael  is, 

And  pitiless  Black  Will  cries:  "Stab  the  slave! 

The  peasant  will  detect  the  tragedy!" 

The  wrinkles  in  his  foul  death-threat'ning  face 


42  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

Gapes  open  wide,  like  graves  to  swallow  men. 
My  death  to  him  is  but  a  merriment, 
And  he  will  murder  me  to  make  him  sport. 
My  trembling  joints  witness  my  inward  fear. 

Michael  goes  out  by  the  porch  door;  Mosbie  enters 

from  the  staircase. 
Mosbie 

Disturbed  thoughts  drives  me  from  company 
And  dries  my  marrow  with  their  watchfulness ; 
Continual  trouble  of  my  moody  brain 
Feebles  my  body  by  excess  of  drink, 
And  nips  me  as  the  bitter  north-east  wind 
Doth  check  the  tender  blossoms  in  the  spring. 
Well  fares  the  man,  howe'er  his  cates  do  taste, 
That  tables  not  with  foul  suspicion; 
And  he  but  pines  amongst  his  delicates, 
Whose  troubled  mind  is  stuffed  with  discontent. 
My  golden  time  was  when  I  had  no  gold; 
Though  then  I  wanted,  yet  I  slept  secure; 
My  daily  toil  begat  me  nights  repose, 
My  night's  repose  made  daylight  fresh  to  me. 
But  since  I  climbed  the  top-bough  of  the  tree 
And  sought  to  build  my  nest  among  the  clouds, 
Each  gentle  stirry  gale  doth  shake  my  bed, 
And  makes  me  dread  my  downfall  to  the  earth. 
But  whither  doth  contemplation  carry  me? 
The  one  I  seek  to  find,  where  pleasure  dwells, 
Is  hedged  behind  me  that  I  cannot  back, 
But  needs  must  on,  although  to  danger's  gate. 
Then,  Arden,  perish  thou  by  that  decree; 
For  Greene  doth  ear  the  land  and  weed  thee  up 
To  make  my  harvest  nothing  but  pure  corn. 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  43 

And  for  his  pains  I'll  hive  him  up  a  while, 

And  after  smother  him  to  have  his  wax : 

Such  bees  as  Greene  must  never  live  to  sting. 

Then  is  there  Michael,  Clarke,  and  Shakebag,  too, 

Chief  actors  now  to  Arden's  overthrow ; 

Who  when  they  see  me  sit  in  Arden's  seat, 

They  will  insult  upon  me  for  my  meed, 

Or  fright  me  by  detecting  of  his  end. 

I'll  none  of  that,  for  I  can  cast  a  bone 

To  make  these  curs  pluck  out  each  other's  throat, 

And  then  am  I  sole  ruler  of  mine  own. 

Yet  Mistress  Arden  lives;  but  she's  myself, 

And  holy  Church  rites  makes  us  two  but  one. 

But  what  for  that?  I  may  not  trust  you,  Alice: 

You  have  supplanted  Arden  for  my  sake, 

And  will  extirpen  me  to  plant  another. 

'Tis  fearful  sleeping  in  a  serpent's  bed, 

And  I  will  cleanly  rid  my  hands  of  her. 

Alice  comes  down  the  staircase;  a  breviary  is  in  her 

hand. 
But  here  she  comes,  and  I  must  flatter  her. 
— How  now,  Alice?  what,  sad  and  passionate? 
Make  me  partaker  of  thy  pensiveness : 
Fire  divided  burns  with  lesser  force. 

Alice 

But  I  will  dam  that  fire  in  my  breast 
Till  by  the  force  thereof  my  part  consume. 
Ah,  Mosbie! 

Mosbie 

Such  deep  pathaires,  like  to  a  cannon's  burst 

Discharged  against  a  ruinated  wall, 


44  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

Breaks  my  relenting  heart  in  thousand  pieces. 
Ungentle  Alice,  thy  sorrow  is  my  sore; 
Thou  know'st  it  well,  and  'tis  thy  policy 
To  forge  distressful  looks  to  wound  a  breast 
Where  lies  a  heart  that  dies  when  thou  art  sad. 
It  is  not  love  that  loves  to  anger  love. 

Alice 

It  is  not  love  that  loves  to  murder  love. 

Mosbie 

How  mean  you  that? 

Alice 

Thou  knowest  how  dearly  Arden  loved  me. 

Mosbie 
And  then? 

Alice 

And  then — conceal  the  rest,  for  'tis  too  bad, 
Lest  that  my  words  be  carried  with  the  wind, 
And  published  in  the  world  to  both  our  shames. 
I  pray  thee,  Mosbie,  let  our  springtime  wither; 
Our  harvest  else  will  yield  but  loathsome  weeds. 
Forget,  I  pray  thee,  what  hath  passed  betwixt  us, 
For  how  I  blush  and  tremble  at  the  thoughts! 

Mosbie 

What?  are  you  changed? 

Alice 

Ay,  to  my  former  happy  life  again, 

From  title  of  an  odious  strumpet's  name 

To  honest  Arden's  wife,  not  Arden's  honest  wife. 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  45 

Ha,  Mosbie!  'tis  thou  hast  rifled  me  of  that 
And  made  me  slanderous  to  all  my  kin; 
Even  in  my  forehead  is  thy  name  ingraven, 
A  mean  artificer,  that  low-born  name. 
I  was  bewitched:  woe  worth  the  hapless  hour 
And  all  the  causes  that  enchanted  me! 

Mosbie 

Nay,  if  you  ban,  let  me  breathe  curses  forth 

And  if  you  stand  so  nicely  at  your  fame, 

Let  me  repent  the  credit  I  have  lost. 

I  have  neglected  matters  of  import 

That  would  have  stated  me  above  thy  state, 

Forslowed  advantages,  and  spurned  at  time; 

Ay,  Fortune's  right  hand  Mosbie  hath  forsook 

To  take  a  wanton  giglot  by  the  left. 

I  left  the  marriage  of  an  honest  maid, 

Whose  dowry  would  have  weighed  down  all  thy  wealth, 

Whose  beauty  and  demeanour  far  exceeded  thee: 

This  certain  good  I  lost  for  changing  bad, 

And  wrapt  my  credit  in  thy  company. 

/  was  bewitched, — that  is  no  theme  of  thine, 

And  thou  unhallowed  has  enchanted  me. 

But  I  will  break  thy  spells  and  exorcisms, 

And  put  another  sight  upon  these  eyes 

That  showed  my  heart  a  raven  for  a  dove. 

Thou  art  not  fair,  I  viewed  thee  not  till  now; 

Thou  art  not  kind,  till  now  I  knew  thee  not; 

And  now  the  rain  hath  beaten  off  thy  gilt, 

Thy  worthless  copper  shows  thee  counterfeit. 

It  grieves  me  not  to  see  how  foul  thou  art, 

But  mads  me  that  I  ever  thought  thee  fair. 


46  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

Go,  get  thee  gone,  a  copesmate  for  thy  hinds; 
I  am  too  good  to  be  thy  favourite. 

Alice 

Ay,  now  I  see,  and  too  soon  find  it  true, 
Which  often  hath  been  told  me  by  my  friends, 
That  Mosbie  loves  me  not  but  for  my  wealth, 
Which  too  incredulous  I  ne'er  believed. 

[Mosbie  puts  on  his  hat  to  go. 
Nay,  hear  me  speak,  Mosbie,  a  word  or  two; 
I'll  bite  my  tongue  if  it  speak  bitterly. 
Look  on  me,  Mosbie,  or  I'll  kill  myself: 
Nothing  shall  hide  me  from  thy  stormy  look. 
If  thou  cry  war,  there  is  no  peace  for  me; 
I  will  do  penance  for  offending  thee, 
And  burn  this  prayer,  where  I  here  use 
The  holy  word  that  had  converted  me. 
See,  Mosbie,  I  will  tear  away  the  leaves, 
And  all  the  leaves,  and  in  this  golden  cover 
Shall  thy  sweet  phrases  and  thy  letters  dwell; 
And  thereon  will  I  chiefly  meditate, 
And  hold  no  other  sect  but  such  devotion. 
Wilt  thou  not  look?  is  all  thy  love  o'erwhelmed? 
Wilt  thou  not  hear?  what  malice  stops  thine  ears? 
Why  speaks  thou  not?  what  silence  ties  thy  tongue? 
Thou  hast  been  sighted  as  the  eagle  is, 
And  heard  as  quickly  as  the  fearful  hare, 
And  spoke  as  smoothly  as  an  orator, 
When  I  have  bid  thee  hear  or  see  or  speak, 
And  art  thou  sensible  in  none  of  these? 
Weigh  all  thy  good  turns  with  this  little  fault, 
And  I  deserve  not  Mosbie's  muddy  looks. 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  47 

A  fence  of  trouble  is  not  thickened  still : 
Be  clear  again,  1 11  ne'er  more  trouble  thee. 

Mosbie 

Oh,  no;  I  am  a  base  artificer: 

My  wings  are  feathered  for  a  lowly  flight. 

Mosbie  ?  fie !  no,  not  for  a  thousand  pound. 

Make  love  to  you?  why,  'tis  unpardonable; 

We  beggars  must  not  breathe  where  gentles  are. 

Alice 

Sweet  Mosbie  is  as  gentle  as  a  king, 

And  I  too  blind  to  judge  him  otherwise. 

Flowers  do  sometimes  spring  in  fallow  lands, 

Weeds  in  gardens,  roses  grow  on  thorns; 

So,  whatsoe'er  my  Mosbie's  father  was, 

Himself  is  valued  gentle  by  his  worth. 

Mosbie 

Ah,  how  you  women  can  insinuate, 

And  clear  a  trespass  with  your  sweet-set  tongue! 

I  will  forget  this  quarrel,  gentle  Alice, 

Provided  I  be  tempted  so  no  more. 

Black  Will  and  Shakebag  return  by  the  porch  door, 

their  clothes  covered  with  mud. 
Black  Will  and  Shakebag,  what  make  you  here? 
What,  is  the  deed  done?  is  Arden  dead? 

Will 

What  could  a  blinded  man  perform  in  arms? 
Saw  you  not  how  till  now  the  sky  was  dark, 
That  neither  horse  nor  man  could  be  discerned  ? 
Yet  did  we  hear  their  horses  as  they  passed. 


48  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

MOSBIE 

Have  they  escaped  you,  then,  and  passed  the  ferry? 

Shakebag 

Zounds,  I  was  ne^r  so  toiled  in  all  my  life 

In  following  so  slight  a  task  as  this. 

Mosbie 

How  cam'st  thou  so  berayed? 

Will 

With  making  false  footing  in  the  dark; 

Alice 

Here 's  to  pay  for  a  fire  and  good  cheer. 

Will 

Ay,  Mistress  Arden,  this  will  serve  the  turn, 

In  case  we  fall  into  a  second  fog. 

Alice 

Go  in,  Black  Will ;  call  for  a  cup  of  ale, 

And  thou  shalt  stay  with  us  till  supper  time. 

If  I  call  "murder,"  then  return  at  once, 

And  bring  your  honest  friend  along  with  you. 

Will 

Come,  Shakebag, 

We  shall  be  hanged  in  Kent  when  all  is  done. 

Alice 

Not  hanged,  God  save  the  mark ! 

You  are  my  bedesmen,  bound  to  pray  for  me. 

Shakebag 

He  never  said  a  prayer  in  all  his  life. 

[Black  Will  and  Shakebag 
retire  down  the  passage. 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  4f) 

MOSBIE 

These  knaves  will  never  do  it,  let  us  give  it  over. 

Alice 

Soon,  when  my  husband  is  returning  back, 

Like  loving  friends  we'll  meet  him  on  the  way, 

And  boldly  beard  and  brave  him  to  his  teeth. 

When  words  grow  hot  and  blows  begin  to  rise, 

I  '11  call  these  cutters  forth  our  tenement, 

Who,  in  a  manner  to  take  up  the  fray, 

Shall  wound  my  husband  Hornsby  to  the  death. 

Mosbie 

A  fine  device!  why,  this  deserves  a  kiss. 

Alice  is  leaning  against  the  table  and  Mosbie  seated 
near  her;  as  they  embrace,  Franklin  and  A  it  den  en- 
ter by  the  porch  door. 

Franklin 

Why,  there 's  no  better  creatures  in  the  world 

Then  women  are  when  they  are  in  good  humours. 

Arden 

Humours,  forsooth,  that  stifle  like  this  fog! 
Who  is  that?  Mosbie?  what,  so  familiar? 
Injurious  strumpet,  and  thou  ribald  knave, 
Untwine  those  arms. 

Alice 

Ay,  with  a  sugared  kiss  let  them  untwine. 

Arden 

Ah,  Mosbie!  perjured  beast!  bear  this  and  all! 

Mosbie 

And  yet  no  horned  beast;  the  horns  are  thine. 


50  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

Franklin 

Oh,  monstrous  !  Nay,  then  it  is  time  to  draw. 

Alice 

Help,  help!  they  murder  my  husband. 

Will  and  Shakebag  return  with  drawn  swords. 
Shakebag 
Zounds,  who  injures  Master  Mosbie? 

[There  is  a  fight;  Franklin  attacks  Will  and 
Shakebag,  who  run  away  at  once,  frightened ;  A  r  - 
den  disarms  Mosbie  with  his  sword,  wounding  him. 
Help!  Will!  I  am  hurt. 

Mosbie 

I  may  thank  you,  Mistress  Arden,  for  this  wound. 

[Mosbie  goes  out  by  the  porch  door. 
Alice 

Ah,  Arden,  what  folly  blinded  thee? 
Ah,  jealous  harebrained  man,  what  hast  thou  done 
When  we,  to  welcome  thee  with  intended  sport, 
Stood  lovingly  to  greet  thy  coming  home, 
Thou  drew'st  thy  sword,  enraged  with  jealousy, 
And  hurt  thy  friend  whose  thoughts  were  free  from 

harm: 
All  for  a  worthless  kiss  and  joining  arms, 
Both  done  but  merrily  to  try  thy  patience. 
And  me  unhappy  that  devised  the  jest, 
Which,  though  begun  in  sport,  yet  ends  in  blood! 

Franklin 

Marry,  God  defend  me  from  such  a  jest! 

Alice 

Could'st  thou  not  see  us  friendly  smile  on  thee, 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  51 

When  we  joined  arms,  and  when  I  kissed  his  cheek? 
Hast  thou  not  lately  found  me  over-kind? 
Did'st  thou  not  hear  me  cry  "they  murder  thee"? 
Called  I  not  help  to  set  my  husband  free? 
No,  ears  and  all  were  witched;  ah,  me  accursed 
To  link  in  liking  with  a  frantic  man ! 
Henceforth  I'll  be  thy  slave,  no  more  thy  wife, 
For  with  that  name  I  never  shall  content  thee. 
If  I  be  merry,  thou  straightways  thinks  me  light; 
If  sad,  thou  sayest  the  sullens  trouble  me; 
If  well  attired,  thou  thinks  I  will  be  gadding; 
If  homely,  I  seem  sluttish  in  thine  eye : 
Thus  am  I  still,  and  shall  be  while  I  die. 
Poor  wench  abused  by  thy  misgovernment! 

Arden 

But  is  it  for  truth  that  neither  thou  nor  he 

Intendedst  malice  in  your  misdemeanour? 

Alice 

The  heavens  can  witness  of  our  harmless  thoughts. 

Arden 

Then  pardon  me,  sweet  Alice,  and  forgive  this  fault. 

Forget  but  this  and  never  see  the  like. 

Impose  me  penance,  and  I  will  perform  it, 

For  in  thy  discontent  I  find  a  death, — 

A  death  tormenting  more  than  death  itself. 

Alice 

Nay,  had'st  thou  loved  me  as  thou  dost  pretend, 

Thou  wouldst  have  marked  the  speeches  of  thy  friend, 

Who  going  wounded  from  the  place,  he  said 

His  skin  was  pierced  only  through  my  device: 


52  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

And  if  sad  sorrow  taint  thee  for  this  fault, 
Thou  wouldst  have  followed  him,  and  seen  him  dressed, 
And  cried  him  mercy  whom  thou  hast  misdone; 
Ne'er  shall  my  heart  be  eased  till  this  be  done. 

Arden 

Content  thee,  sweet  Alice,  thou  shalt  have  thy  will, 

Whate'er  it  be.  For  that  I  injured  thee, 

And  wronged  my  friend,  shame  scourgeth  my  offence; 

Come  thou  thyself,  and  go  along  with  me, 

And  be  a  mediator  'twixt  us  two. 

Franklin 

Why,  Master  Arden !  know  you  what  you  do  ? 

Will  you  follow  him  that  hath  dishonoured  you? 

Alice 

Why,  canst  thou  prove  that  I  have  been  disloyal? 

Franklin 

Why,  Mosbie  taunted  your  husband  with  the  like. 

Alice 

Ay,  after  that  he  had  reviled  him 

By  the  injurious  name  of  perjured  beast: 

He  knew  no  wrong  could  spite  a  jealous  man 

More  than  the  hateful  naming  of  the  like. 

Franklin 

Suppose  'tis  true;  yet  is  it  dangerous 

To  follow  him  whom  he  hath  lately  hurt. 

Alice 

A  fault  confessed  is  more  than  half  amends; 

But  men  of  such  ill  spirit  as  yourself 

Work  crosses  and  debates  'twixt  man  and  wife. 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  53 

Arden 

I  pray  thee,  gentle  Franklin,  hold  thy  peace: 

I  know  my  wife  doth  counsel  for  the  best. 

I  '11  seek  out  Mosbie  where  his  wound  is  dressed, 

And  salve  this  hapless  quarrel  if  I  may. 

[Arden  goes  out  by  the  porch  door, 

and  Alice  retires  by  the  staircase. 
Franklin 

He  whom  the  devil  drives  must  go  perforce. 

Poor  gentleman,  how  soon  he  is  bewitched! 

And  yet,  because  his  wife  is  the  instrument, 

His  friends  must  not  be  lavish  in  their  speech. 

Franklin  goes  out  by  the  porch  door ;  Black  Will  awe? 

Shakebag  return  with  Greene  by  the  passage. 
Will 
Sirrah  Greene,  when  was  I  so  long  in  killing  a  man? 

Greene 

I  think  we  shall  never  do  it;  let  us  give  it  over. 

Shakebag 

Nay,  Zounds !  we  '11  kill  him,  though  we  be  hanged  at 

his  door  for  our  labour. 

Will 

Thou  knowst,  Greene,  that  I  have  lived  in  London  this 
twelve  years,  where  I  have  made  some  go  upon  wooden 
legs  for  taking  the  wall  on  me;  divers  with  silver  noses 
for  saying  "There  goes  Black  Will!"  I  have  cracked  as 
many  blades  as  thou  hast  nuts. 

Greene 

Oh  monstrous  lie! 


54  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

Will 

Faith,  in  a  manner  I  have.  For  a  cross  word  of  a  tapster 
I  have  pierced  one  barrel  after  another  with  my  dagger, 
and  held  him  by  the  ears  till  all  his  beer  hath  run  out. 
In  Thames  Street  a  brewer's  cart  was  like  to  have  run 
over  me :  I  made  no  more  ado,  but  went  to  the  clerk  and 
cut  all  the  notches  of  his  tallies  and  beat  them  about  his 
head.  I  and  my  company  have  taken  the  constable  from 
his  watch,  and  carried  him  about  the  fields  on  a  coltstaff. 
I  have  broken  a  sergeant's  head  with  his  own  mace,  and 
bailed  whom  I  list  with  my  sword  and  buckler.  All  the 
tenpenny-alehouses-men  would  stand  every  morning  with 
a  quart  pot  in  their  hand,  saying,  "Will  it  please  your 
worship  drink?"  He  that  had  not  done  so,  had  been  sure 
to  have  had  his  sign  pulled  down  and  his  lattice  borne 
away  the  next  night.  To  conclude,  what  have  I  not  done? 
yet  cannot  do  this ;  doubtless,  he  is  preserved  by  miracle. 

Alice  returns  by  the  staircase. 
Greene 
Hence,  Will!  here  comes  Mistress  Arden. 

Alice 

Ah,  gentlemen,  how  missed  you  of  your  purpose? 

Greene 

Twas  'long  of  Shakebag,  that  unlucky  villain. 

Shakebag 

Thou  dost  me  wrong;  I  did  as  much  as  any. 

Will 

Nay  then,  Mistress  Arden,  I'll  tell  you  how  it  was: 
When  he  should  have  locked  with  both  his  hilts, 
He  in  a  bravery  flourished  o'er  his  head; 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  55 

With  that  comes  Franklin  at  him  lustily, 
And  hurts  the  slave;  with  that  he  slinks  away. 
Now  his  way  had  been  to  have  come  hand  and  feet,  one 
and  two  round,  at  his  costard;  he  like  a  fool  bears  his 
sword-point  half  a  yard  out  of  danger.  [He  takes  a  posi- 
tion on  gtiard.]  I  lie  here  for  my  life;  if  the  devil  come, 
and  he  have  no  more  strength  than  I  have  fence,  he  shall 
never  beat  me  from  this  ward,  I'll  stand  to  it;  a  buckler 
in  a  skilful  hand  is  as  good  as  a  castle;  nay,  'tis  better 
than  a  sconce,  for  I  have  tried  it. 
Mosbie,  perceiving  this,  began  to  faint: 
With  that  comes  Arden  with  his  arming  sword, 
And  thrust  him  through  the  shoulder  in  a  trice. 

Alice 

Ay,  but  I  wonder  why  you  both  stood  still. 

Will 

Faith,  I  was  so  amazed,  I  could  not  strike. 

Mosbie  returns  by  the  porch  door,  his  arm  is  in  a  sling-. 

Alice 

Sweet  Mosbie,  hide  thy  arm,  it  kills  my  heart. 

Mosbie 

Ay,  Mistress  Arden,  this  is  your  favour. 

Alice 

Ah,  say  not  so;  for  when  I  saw  thee  hurt, 
I  could  have  took  the  weapon  thou  let'st  fall, 
And  run  at  Arden. 

Mosbie 

Then  had  we  been  undone. 

Alice 

Why,  how  long  shall  he  liver 


56  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

MOSBIE 

Faith,  Alice,  no  longer  than  this  night. — 
You,  Master  Greene,  shall  single  Franklin  forth, 
And  hold  him  with  a  long  tale  of  strange  news, 
That  he  may  not  come  home  till  supper-time. 
I'll  fetch  Master  Arden  home,  and  we  like  friends 
Will  play  a  game  or  two  at  tables  here. 

Alice 

But  what  of  all  this  ? 

Mosbie 

Shakebag  and  Will  behind  that  passage  door 

Shall  at  a  certain  watchword  given  rush  forth. 

Will 

What  shall  the  watchword  be? 

Mosbie 

"Now  I  take  vou:"  that  shall  be  the  word: 

But  come  not  forth  before  in  any  case. 

Will 

I  warrant  you.  But  who  shall  lock  me  in  ? 

Alice 

That  will  I  do. 

Mosbie 

Come,  Master  Greene,  go  you  along  with  me. 

See  all  things  ready,  Alice,  against  we  come. 

Alice 

Take  no  care  for  that;  send  you  him  home. 

[Mosbie  and  Greene^o  out  by  the  porch  door. 
How  like  you  this?  say,  will  you  do  it,  sirs? 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  57 

Will 

Ay,  and  that  bravely,  too.  Mark  my  device: 

Place  Mosbie,  being  a  stranger,  in  a  chair, 

And  let  your  husband  sit  upon  a  stool, 

That  I  may  come  behind  him  cunningly, 

And  with  a  towel  pull  him  to  the  ground. 

That  done,  bear  him  behind  the  Abbey, 

That  those  that  find  him  murdered  may  suppose 

Some  slave  or  other  killed  him  for  his  gold. 

Alice 

A  fine  device!  you  shall  have  twenty  pound. 

Will 

Give  me  the  key  that  locks  this  passage  door. 

Alice 

Here  would  I  stay  and  still  encourage  you; 

But  that  I  know  how  resolute  you  are. 

Shakebag 

Tush,  you  are  too  faint-hearted;  we  must  do  it. 

Alice 

But  Mosbie  will  be  there,  whose  very  looks 

Will  add  unwonted  courage  to  my  thought. 

Will 

Tush,  get  you  gone;  'tis  we  must  do  the  deed. 

When  this  door  opens  next,  look  for  his  death. 

Will  and  Shakebag  retire;  Michael  returns  by  the 
porch  door;  Susan  enters  to  prepare  the  table  for 
supper. 

Michael 

Mistress,  my  master  is  coming  hard  by. 


58  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

Alice 

Who  comes  with  him? 

Michael 

Nobody  but  Mosbie. 

Alice 

That's  well,  Michael.  Fetch  in  the  tables,  and  when 

thou  hast  done,  stand  before  the  passage  door. 

Michael 
Why  so? 

Alice 

Black  Will  is  locked  within  to  do  the  deed. 

Michael 

What?  shall  he  die  to-night? 

Alice 

Ay,  Michael. 

Michael 

But  shall  not  Susan  know  it? 

Alice 

Yes,  for  she'll  be  as  secret  as  ourselves. 

Michael 

That 's  brave.  I  '11  go  fetch  the  tables. 

Alice 

But,  Michael, 

When  my  husband  is  come  in,  lock  the  street-door; 

Arden  returns  with  Mosbie. 
Husband,  what  mean  you  to  bring  Mosbie  home? 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  59 

Although  I  wished  you  to  be  reconciled, 
'Twas  more  for  fear  of  you  than  love  of  him. 

Mosbie 

Master  Arden,  methinks  your  wife  would  have  me  gone. 

Arden 

No,  good  Master  Mosbie;  women  will  be  prating. 

Alice,  bid  him  welcome;  he  and  I  are  friends. 

Alice 

But  I  had  rather  die  than  bid  him  welcome. 

Mosbie  [a&ife] 

Oh,  how  cunningly  she  can  dissemble! 

Arden 

Now  he  is  here,  you  will  not  serve  me  so. 

Mosbie 

Pardon  me,  Master  Arden ;  I  '11  away. 

Arden 

No,  good  Master  Mosbie. 

Alice 

We  shall  have  guests  enough,  though  you  go  hence. 

Mosbie 

I  pray  you,  Master  Arden,  let  me  go. 

Arden 

I  pray  thee,  Mosbie,  let  her  prate  her  fill. 

Alice 

The  doors  are  open,  sir,  you  may  be  gone. 


60  LILIES   THAT   FESTER 

Michael  [asicfe] 

Nay,  that's  a  lie,  for  I  have  locked  the  doors. 

Arden 

Sirrah,  fetch  me  a  cup  of  wine,  I'll  make  them  friends. 

Frown  not,  I'll  have  it  so. 

Alice 

I  pray  you  meddle  with  that  you  have  to  do. 

Arden 

Why,  Alice!  how  can  I  do  too  much  for  him 

Whose  life  I  have  endangered  without  cause? 

Alice 

'Tis  true;  and,  seeing  'twas  partly  through  my  means, 

I  am  content  for  once  to  drink  to  him. 

Here,  Master  Mosbie!  and  I  pray  you,  henceforth 

Be  you  as  strange  to  me  as  I  to  you. 

Your  company  hath  purchased  me  ill  friends. 

Mosbie 

Now,  Arden,  I  protest  to  thee  by  heaven, 

Thou  ne'er  shalt  see  me  more  after  this  night. 

Arden 

Tush,  I'll  have  no  such  vows  made  in  my  house. 

Alice 

Yes,  I  pray  you,  husband,  let  him  swear; 

And,  on  that  condition,  Mosbie,  pledge  me  here. 

Mosbie 

Ay,  as  willingly  as  I  mean  to  live. 

Arden 

Come,  Alice,  is  our  supper  ready  yet? 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  6l 

Alice 

Ay!  when  you  have  a  game  at  tables  played. 

Arden 

Come,  Master  Mosbie,  what  shall  we  play  for? 

Mosbie 

Three  games  for  a  French  crown,  sir,  and  please  you. 

Arden 
Content. 

They  go  to  a  small  table  on  the  left  of  the  stage  and  play 
tables  on  a  draught-board  with  counters  and  dice.  Mos- 
bie is  in  the  armchair  and  Arden  sits  on  a  stool. 
Will  and  Shakebag  appear  at  the  back.  Will  has 
a  towel  in  his  hand. 

Will 

— Can  he  not  take  him  yet?  what  a  spite  is  that? 

Alice 

— Not  yet,  Will;  take  heed  he  see  thee  not. 

Will 

— I  fear  he  will  spy  me  as  I  am  coming. 

Shakebag 

— To  prevent  that,  creep  betwixt  my  legs. 

Mosbie 

One  ace,  or  else  I  lose  the  game. 

Arden 

Marry,  sir,  there's  two  for  failing. 

Mosbie 

Ah,  Master  Arden,  "now  I  can  take  you." 

[Will,  by  means  of  the  towel  held  in  both 
hands,  like  anoose,pidls  Arden  off  the  stool. 


62  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

Arden 

Mosbie!  Michael!  Alice!  what  will  you  do? 

Will 

Nothing  but  take  you  up,  sir,  nothing  else. 

Mosbie 

There's  for  the  pressing  iron  you  told  me  of. 

[Stabs  him. 
Shakebag 

And  there's  for  the  ten  pound  in  my  sleeve.  [Stabs  him. 

Alice 

What !  groans  thou  ?  nay,  then  give  me  the  weapon ! 

Take  this  for  hindering  Mosbie's  love  and  mine. 

[Slie  stabs  him. 
Michael 
O,  mistress! 

Will 

Ah,  that  villain  will  betray  us  all. 

Mosbie 

Tush,  fear  him  not;  he  will  be  secret. 

Michael 

Why,  dost  thou  think  I  will  betray  myself? 

Will 

Shift  for  yourselves;  we  two  will  leave  you  now. 

Alice 

But  first  convey  the  body  to  the  fields, 

And  throw  the  knife  and  towel  down  the  well. 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  63 

Shakebag 

We  have  our  gold;  Mistress  Alice,  adieu; 

Mosbie,  farewell,  and  Michael,  farewell  too. 

[The  body  is  carried  out  down  the  passage  by  Will, 
Shakebag,  and  Michael;  Alice  and  Susan 
tidy  the  room.  Knocking  is  heard  at  the  porch  door. 

Susan 

Mistress,  the  guests  are  at  the  door. 

Hearken,  they  knock:  what,  shall  I  let  them  in? 

Alice 

Mosbie,  go  thou  and  bear  them  company. 

[Mosbie  goes  to  porch  door. 
Susan,  some  water  here  upon  this  blood. 

Susan 

The  blood  cleaveth  to  the  ground  and  will  not  out. 

Alice 

The  more  you  strive,  the  more  the  blood  appears! 

Susan 

What's  the  reason,  mistress,  can  you  tell? 

Alice 

Because  I  blush  not  at  my  husband's  death. 

Mosbie  returns. 
Mosbie 

How  now?  what's  the  matter?  is  all  well? 

Alice 

Ay,  well,  if  Arden  were  alive  again. 

In  vain  we  strive,  for  here  his  blood  remains. 


64  LILIES   THAT    FESTER 

MOSBIE 

Why,  strew  rushes  on  it,  can  you  not? 

This  wench  doth  nothing:  fall  unto  the  work. 

Alice 

'Twas  thou  that  made  me  murder  him. 

Mo  SB  IE 
What  of  that? 

Alice 

Nay,  nothing,  Mosbie,  so  it  be  not  known. 

Mosbie 

Keep  thou  it  close,  and  'tis  unpossible. 

Alice 

Ah,  but  I  cannot !  was  he  not  slain  by  me  ? 

My  husband's  death  torments  me  at  the  heart. 

Mosbie 

It  shall  not  long  torment  thee,  gentle  Alice; 

I  am  thy  husband,  think  no  more  of  him. 

Greene  enters  with  Clarke  and  Bradshaw. 
Greene 
Now,  Mistress  Arden,  lack  you  any  guests? 

Alice 

Ah,  Master  Greene,  did  you  see  my  husband  lately? 

Greene 

I  saw  him  walking  behind  the  Abbey  even  now. 

Franklin  enters. 
Alice 

I  do  not  like  this  being  out  so  late — 

Master  Franklin,  where  did  you  leave  my  husband? 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  65 

Franklin 

Fear  you  not,  he'll  come  anon;  meantime 

You  may  do  well  to  bid  his  guests  sit  down. 

Alice 

Ay,  so  they  shall;  Master  Bradshaw,  sit  you  there; 

I  pray  you,  be  content,  I'll  have  my  will. 

Master  Mosbie,  sit  you  in  my  husband's  seat. 

[All  sit:  the  stool  on  which  Arden  sat  is  still 
vacant  near  the  centre  of  the  stage ,  Alice  be- 
ing afraid  to  touch  it  or  to  seat  any  one  upon  it. 

Mosbie 

Sirrah  Michael,  give  us  some  cups. 

Michael 

Susan,  shall  you  or  I  wait  on  them? 

Susan 

Peace,  we  have  other  matters  now  in  hand. 

Mosbie 

Mistress  Arden,  here's  to  your  husband. 

Alice 

My  husband! 

Franklin 

What  ails  you,  woman,  to  cry  so  suddenly. 

Alice 

Ah,  neighbours,  a  sudden  qualm  came  o'er  my  heart; 

My  husband  being  forth  torments  my  mind. 

I  know  something's  amiss,  he  is  not  well; 

Or  else  I  should  have  heard  of  him  ere  now. 


66  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

MOSBIE 

— She  will  undo  us  through  her  foolishness. 

Greene 

Fear  not,  Mistress  Arden,  he's  well  enough. 

Alice 

Tell  not  me;  I  know  he  is  not  well : 

He  was  not  wont  for  to  stay  thus  late. 

Good  Master  Franklin,  go  and  seek  him  forth, 

And  if  you  find  him,  send  him  home  to  me, 

And  tell  him  what  a  fear  he  hath  put  me  in. 

Franklin 

I  like  not  this;  I  pray  God  all  be  well. 

[Franklin  goes  out. 
Alice  [to  guests] 

Ah,  gentlemen,  take  pity  on  my  fears! 
And  sweetly  lend  thy  aid  to  seek  for  him. 

Guests 

Ay,  that  we  will! 

Alice 

Good  Michael,  light  them  forth  and  lend  a  link. 

[Michael,  Greene,  and  the  ttvo  guests 
retire  by  the  porch  door.  Alice  and  M  o  s  b  i  e 
look  at  each  other.  There  is  a  momenfs  silence. 

Alice 

Sweet  Mosbie, 

I  have  my  wish  in  that  I  joy  thy  sight — 

But  it  behoves  us  to  be  circumspect. 

Mosbie 

Ay,  for  Franklin  thinks  that  we  have  murdered  him. 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  67 

Alice 

Ay,  but  he  cannot  prove  it  for  his  life. 

Michael  and  Greene  return. 
Michael 

O  mistress,  the  Mayor  and  all  the  watch 
Are  coming  towards  our  house  with  glaives  and  bills. 

Mosbie 

Tell  me,  sweet  Alice,  how  shall  I  escape? 

Alice 

Out  at  the  back-door,  over  the  pile  of  wood, 

And  for  one  night  lie  at  the  Flower-de-luce. 

Mosbie 

That  is  the  next  way  to  betray  myself. 

Greene 

Alas,  Mistress  Arden,  the  watch  will  take  me  too, 

And  cause  suspicion,  where  else  would  be  none. 

Alice 

Why,  take  that  way  that  Master  Mosbie  doth; 

Mosbie 

Until  to-morrow,  sweet  Alice,  now  farewell: 

And  see  you  confess  nothing  in  any  case. 

Greene 

Be  resolute,  Mistress  Alice,  betray  us  not, 

But  cleave  to  us  as  we  will  stick  to  you. 

[Mosbie  and  Greene  go  out  by  the  passage. 
Alice 

Now  let  the  judge  and  juries  do  their  worst: 
My  house  is  clear,  and  now  I  fear  them  not. 


68  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

Susan 

As  they  went,  it  snowed  all  the  way, 

Which  makes  me  fear  their  footsteps  will  be  spied. 

Alice 

Peace,  fool,  the  snow  will  cover  them  again. 

Susan 

But  it  had  done  before  they  did  come  back. 

Alice 

Hark,  hark,  they  knock!  Go,  Michael,  let  them  in. 

The  Mayor  and  the  Watch  enter. 
How  now,  Master  Mayor,  have  you  brought  my  hus- 
band home? 

Mayor 

I  saw  him  come  into  your  house  an  hour  ago. 

Alice 

You  are  deceived;  it  was  a  Londoner. 

Mayor 

Mistress  Arden,  know  you  not  one  that  is  called  Black 
Will? 

Alice 

I  know  none  such:  what  mean  these  questions? 

Mayor 

I  have  the  Council's  warrant  to  apprehend  him. 

Alice 

— I  am  glad  it  is  no  worse. 

Why,  Master  Mayor,  think  you  I  harbour  any  such? 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  69 

Mayor 

We  are  informed  that  here  he  is; 

And  therefore  pardon  us,  for  we  must  search. 

Alice 

Ay,  search,  and  spare  you  not,  through  every  room: 

Were  my  husband  at  home,  you  would  not  offer  this. 

Some  of  the  Watch  go  down  the  passage:  Franklin 

returns  by  the  porch  door. 
Master  Franklin,  what  mean  you  come  so  sad? 

Franklin 

Arden,  thy  husband  and  my  friend,  is  slain. 

Alice 

Ah,  by  whom?  Master  Franklin,  can  you  tell? 

Franklin 

I  know  not.  But  behind  the  Abbey 

There  he  lies  murdered  in  most  piteous  case. 

Mayor 

But,  Master  Franklin,  are  you  sure  'tis  he? 

Franklin 

I  am  too  sure;  would  God  I  were  deceived. 

Alice 

Find  out  the  murderers,  let  them  be  known. 

Franklin 

Ay,  so  they  shall :  come  you  along  with  us. 

Alice 
Wherefore? 


70  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

Franklin 

Know  you  this  hand-towel  and  this  knife? 

Susan 

— Ah,  Michael,  through  this  thy  negligence 

Thou  hast  betrayed  and  undone  us  all. 

Michael 

— I  was  so  afraid  I  knew  not  what  I  did: 

I  thought  I  had  thrown  them  both  into  the  well. 

Alice 

But  wherefore  stay  you?  find  out  the  murderers. 

Mayor 

I  fear  me  you  '11  prove  one  of  them  yourself. 

Alice 

I  one  of  them?  What  mean  such  questions? 

Franklin 

I  fear  me  he  was  murdered  in  this  house 
And  carried  to  the  fields;  for  from  that  place 
Backwards  and  forwards  may  you  see 
The  print  of  many  feet  within  the  snow. 
And  look  about  this  chamber  where  we  are, 
And  you  shall  find  part  of  his  guiltless  blood; 
For  in  his  slipshoe  did  I  find  some  rushes, 
Which  argueth  he  was  murdered  in  this  room. 

Mayor 

Look  in  the  place  where  he  was  wont  to  sit. 

See,  see !  his  blood !  It  is  too  manifest. 

Alice 

It  is  a  cup  of  wine  that  Michael  shed. 


LILIES    THAT    FESTER  71 

Michael 
Ay,  truly. 

Franklin 

It  is  his  blood,  which,  strumpet,  thou  has  shed. 

But  if  I  live,  thou  and  thy  'complices 

Which  have  conspired  and  wrought  his  death  shall  rue  it. 

Mosbie  and  Greene  are  brought  in  prisoners. 
Mayor 
Confess  this  foul  fault  and  be  penitent. 

Alice 

Forgive  me,  Arden :  I  repent  me  now, 

And,  would  my  death  save  thine,  thou  should'st  not  die. 

Mayor 

Say,  Mosbie,  what  made  thee  murder  him? 

Franklin 

Study  not  for  an  answer;  look  not  down. 

Mosbie 

I  hired  Black  Will  and  Shakebag,  ruffians  both, 
And  they  and  I  have  done  this  murderous  deed. 
Convey  me  from  the  presence  of  that  strumpet. 

Alice 

Ah,  but  for  thee  I  had  never  been  a  strumpet. 

Mayor 

Leave  to  accuse  each  other  now, 

And  listen  to  the  sentence  I  shall  give. 

Bear  Mosbie  and  his  sister  to  London  straight, 

Bear  Mistress  Arden  unto  Canterbury. 


72  LILIES    THAT    FESTER 

Alice 

Let  my  death  make  amends  for  all  my  sins. 

Mosbie 

Fie  upon  women!  this  shall  be  my  song; 

But  bear  me  hence,  for  I  have  lived  too  long. 

Mayor 

To  speedy  execution  with  them  all! 

[The  prisoners  are  led  out  by  the  porch  door. 
Curtain 


LOVES    CONSTANCY 

IN    THE    PLAY    OF 
"EDWARD   THE   THIRD" 

ARRANGED    IN   ONE   ACT 

BY 

WILLIAM   POEL 

DIRECTOR    OF    THE    ELIZABETHAN 
STAGE    SOCIETY 


CHARACTERS 

Edward  the  Third.  King  of  England. 

Edward,  Prince  of  Wales,  his  Son. 

Earl  of  Warwick. 

Earl  of  Derby. 

Lord  Audley. 

Lodwick,  Edward 's  Secretary. 

Countess  of  Salisbury. 

Attendant  on  the  Countess. 

Lords,  Heralds,  Officers,  Soldiers,  &c, 

Scene:  Roxburgh ;  Gardens  of  the  Castle. 
Period,  1335. 


First  performed  by  the  Elizabethan  Stage  Society  at 
St.  George^s  Hall,  Langham  Place,  London,  on  July  9, 
1897,  with  the  following  cast: 

King  Edward  Mr.  F.  Rawson  Buckley. 

Prince  of  Wales  Miss  Muriel  Ashwynne. 

Warwick  Mr.  Ernest  Meads. 

Derby  Mr.  Percy  Varley. 

Audley  Mr.  Davidson, 

Lodwick  Mr.  Fowler. 

Lady  Salisbury  Miss  Riddell. 

Attendant  Mr.  Cocker  ell. 


The  play  produced  under  the  direction  of 
Mr.  William  Poel. 


LOVES  CONSTANCY 

SCENE 

THE  gardens  of  Roxburgh  Castle ;  a  terrace  in  the 
background  overlooking  the  Walls.  An  entrance  to 
the  apartments  of  the  castle  on  the  left ;  a  stone  seat  and 
table  on  the  right,  shadowed  by  an  oak-tree  and  shrubs; 
a  sundial  in  the  centre  of  the  greensward. 

Before  the  curtain  rises,  a  trumpet-call  is  heard,  fol- 
lowed by  a  roll  on  the  drum  in  the  distance;  then  the  sound 
of  chains  as  if  the  drawbridge  was  being  lowered.  The 
Countess  of  Salisbury  is  discovered  alone  on  the  ter- 
race, looking  over  the  Walls  into  the  plain  below.  Her 
attendants  are  standing  071  the  left,  near  the  entrance  to 
the  apartments. 

Count. 

O  happy  comfort,  welcome  to  our  house! 
The  confident  and  boist'rous  boasting  Scot, — 
That  swore  before  my  walls,  they  would  not  back 
For  all  the  armed  power  of  this  land, — 
With  faceless  fear  that  ever  turns  his  back, 
Turn'd  hence  against  the  blasting  north-east  wind 
Upon  the  bare  report  and  name  of  arms. 

Enter  a  messenger  attended.  The  drum  and  trumpet  are 

again  heard  in  the  distance. 
O  summer's  day!  see  where  my  kinsmen  come. 
Well  may  I  give  a  welcome,  sir,  to  thee, 
For  thou  com'st  well  to  chase  my  foes  from  hence. 


78  LOVE'S   CONSTANCY 

Mess. 

The  king  himself  is  come  in  person  hither; 

Dear  madam,  prepare  to  gratulate  his  highness. 

Count. 

How  may  I  entertain  his  majesty, 

To  show  my  duty  and  his  dignity? 

Some  attendants  join  the  Countess  on  the  terrace.  A 
flourish,  and  then  enter  from  the  right  King  Edward, 
Warwick,  Artois,  Lodwick,  and  attendants. 

K.Ed. 

What,  are  the  stealing  foxes  fled  and  gone 

Before  we  could  uncouple  at  their  heels? 

War. 

They  are,  my  liege;  but,  with  a  cheerful  cry, 
Hot  hounds  and  hardy  chase  them  at  the  heels. 

K.Ed. 

That  is  the  countess,  Warwick,  is  it  not? 

War. 

Even  she,  my  liege;  whose  beauty  tyrant's  fear, 
As  a  May  blossom  with  pernicious  winds, 
Hath  sullied,  wither'd,  overcast,  and  done. 

K.  Ed. 

Hath  she  been  fairer,  Warwick,  than  she  is? 

War. 

My  gracious  king,  fair  is  she  not  at  all, 
If  that  herself  were  by  to  stain  herself, 
As  I  have  seen  her  when  she  was  herself. 


LOVE'S   CONSTANCY  79 

K.Ed. 

What  strange  enchantment  lurk'd  in  those  her  eyes 
When  they  excelPd  this  excellence  they  have, 
That  now  their  dim  decline  hath  power  to  draw 
My  subject  eyes  from  piercing  majesty 
To  gaze  on  her  with  doting  admiration? 

Countess  comes  forward,  folloived  by  her  attendants. 
Count. 

In  duty  lower  than  the  ground  I  kneel, 
And  for  my  dull  knees  bow  my  feeling  heart, 
To  witness  my  obedience  to  your  highness; 
With  many  millions  of  a  subject's  thanks 
For  this  your  royal  presence,  whose  approach 
Hath  driven  war  and  danger  from  my  gate. 

K.  Ed. 

Lady,  stand  up:  I  come  to  bring  thee  peace, 

However  thereby  I  have  purchas'd  war. 

Count. 

No  war  to  you,  my  liege;  the  Scots  are  gone, 

And  gallop  home  toward  Scotland  with  their  hate. 

K.  Ed.  [aside] 

Lest  yielding  here  I  pine  in  shameful  love, 

Come,  we'll  pursue  the  Scots; — Artois,  away! 

[The  drum  and  trumpet  are 
again  heard  in  the  distance. 
Count. 

A  little  while,  my  gracious  sovereign,  stay, 
And  let  the  power  of  a  mighty  king 
Honour  our  roof;  my  husband  in  the  wars, 
When  he  shall  hear  it,  will  triumph  for  joy: 


80  LOVE'S   CONSTANCY 

Then,  dear  my  liege,  now  niggard  not  thy  state; 
Being  at  the  wall,  enter  our  homely  gate. 

K.  Ed. 

Pardon  me,  countess,  I  will  come  no  near; 

I  dream'd  to-night  of  treason,  and  I  fear. 

Count. 

Far  from  this  place  let  ugly  treason  lie! 

K.  Ed.  [aside] 

No  farther  off  than  her  conspiring  eye, 

Which  shoots  infected  poison  in  my  heart 

Beyond  repulse  of  wit  or  cure  of  art. 

Now  in  the  sun  alone  it  doth  not  lie 

With  light  to  take  light  from  a  mortal  eye; 

For  here  two  day-stars,  that  mine  eyes  would  see, 

More  than  the  sun,  steals  mine  own  light  from  me. 

Contemplative  desire !  desire  to  be 

In  contemplation,  that  may  master  thee! 

Warwick,  Artois,  to  horse,  and  let's  away! 

[The  drum  and  trumpet  re- 
peated, and  growing  fainter. 

Count. 

What  might  I  speak,  to  make  my  sovereign  stay? 

K.  Ed. 

What  needs  a  tongue  to  such  a  speaking  eye 
That  more  persuades  than  winning  oratory? 

Count. 

Let  not  thy  presence,  like  the  April  sun, 
Flatter  our  earth  and  suddenly  be  done. 
More  happy  do  not  make  our  outward  wall 
Than  thou  wilt  grace  our  inner  house  withal. 


LOVE'S   CONSTANCY  81 

Our  house,  my  liege,  is  like  a  country  swain, 
Whose  habit  rude  and  manners  blunt  and  plain 
Presageth  nought,  yet  inly  beautified 
With  bounty's  riches  and  fair  hidden  pride : 
For,  where  the  golden  ore  doth  buried  lie, 
The  ground,  undeck'd  with  nature's  tapestry, 
Seems  barren,  sere,  unfertile,  fruitless,  dry; 
And  where  the  upper  turf  of  earth  doth  boast 
His  pride,  perfumes  and  parti -colour'd  cost, 
Delve  there,  and  find  this  issue  and  their  pride 
To  spring  from  ordure  and  corruption's  side. 
But,  to  make  up  my  all  too  long  compare, 
These  ragged  walls  no  testimony  are 
What  is  within ;  but,  like  a  cloak,  doth  hide, 
From  weather's  waste,  the  under-garnish'd  pride. 
More  gracious  than  my  terms  can  let  them  be, 
Intreat  thyself  to  stay  a  while  with  me. 

K.  Ed.  [aside] 

As  wise  as  fair;  what  fond  fit  can  be  heard 

When  wisdom  keeps  the  gate  as  beauty's  guard? — 

Countess,  albeit  my  business  urgeth  me, 

It  shall  attend  while  I  attend  on  thee. — 

Come  on,  my  lords,  here  will  I  host  to-night. 

[The  drum  and  trumpet  continue  growing 
fainter  until  their  sound  dies  away;  then,  from 
the  apartments  of  the  castle,  is  heard  a  plea- 
sant melody  from  stringed  instruments ;  the 
King  leads  the  Countess  into  the  castle, 

followed  by  all  the  attendants  but  Lodwick. 
Lod. 

I  might  perceive  his  eye  in  her  eye  lost, 

His  ear  to  drink  her  sweet  tongue's  utterance; 


82  LOVE'S   CONSTANCY 

And  changing  passion,  like  inconstant  clouds 

That  rack  upon  the  carriage  of  the  winds, 

Increase  and  die  in  his  disturbed  cheeks. 

Lo,  when  she  blush'd,  even  then  did  he  look  pale, 

As  if  her  cheeks,  by  some  enchanted  power, 

Attracted  had  the  cherry  blood  from  his: 

Anon,  with  reverent  fear  when  she  grew  pale, 

His  cheeks  put  on  their  scarlet  ornaments, 

But  no  more  like  her  oriental  red, 

Than  brick  to  coral  or  live  things  to  dead. 

Why  did  he  then  thus  counterfeit  her  looks? 

If  she  did  blush,  'twas  tender  modest  shame, 

Being  in  the  sacred  presence  of  a  king; 

If  he  did  blush,  'twas  red  immodest  shame, 

To  veil  his  eyes  amiss,  being  a  king : 

If  she  look'd  pale,  'twas  silly  woman's  fear, 

To  bear  herself  in  presence  of  a  king ; 

If  he  look'd  pale,  it  was  with  guilty  fear, 

To  dote  amiss,  being  a  mighty  king: 

Then,  Scottish  wars,  farewell !  I  fear,  't  will  prove 

A  ling'ring  English  siege  of  peevish  love. 

The  music  ceases.  Enter  King  Edward. 
K.  Ed. 

She  is  grown  more  fairer  far  since  I  came  hither; 

Her  voice  more  silver  every  word  than  other, 

Her  wit  more  fluent:  what  a  strange  discourse 

Unfolded  she  of  David  and  his  Scots ! 

"Even  thus,"  quoth  she,  "he  spake," — and  then  spoke 

broad, 
With  epithets  and  accents  of  the  Scot; 
But  somewhat  better  than  the  Scot  could  speak: 
"And  thus,"  quoth  she — and  answer'd  then  herself; 


LOVE'S   CONSTANCY  83 

For  who  could  speak  like  her?  but  she  herself 

Breathes  from  the  wall  an  angel's  note  from  heaven 

Of  sweet  defiance  to  her  barbarous  foes. 

When  she  would  talk  of  peace,  methinks,  her  tongue 

Commanded  war  to  prison ;  when  of  war, 

It  waken'd  Caesar  from  his  Roman  grave, 

To  hear  war  beautified  by  her  discourse. 

Wisdom  is  foolishness,  but  in  her  tongue, 

Beauty  a  slander,  but  in  her  fair  face : 

There  is  no  summer,  but  in  her  cheerful  looks, 

Nor  frosty  winter,  but  in  her  disdain. 

I  cannot  blame  the  Scots  that  did  besiege  her, 

For  she  is  all  the  treasure  of  our  land ; 

But  call  them  cowards,  that  they  ran  away, 

Having  so  rich  and  fair  a  cause  to  stay.  — 

Art  thou  there,  Lodwick?  give  me  ink  and  paper. 

Lod. 

I  will,  my  sovereign. 

K.  Ed. 

And  bid  the  lords  forbear  to  visit  me, 
For  we  will  walk  and  meditate  alone. 

Lod. 

I  will,  my  liege. 

Lodwick  enters  the  castle. 
K.Ed. 

This  fellow  is  well  read  in  poetry 

And  hath  a  lusty  and  persuasive  spirit: 

I  will  acquaint  him  with  my  passion; 

Which  he  shall  shadow  with  a  veil  of  lawn. 


84  LOVE'S   CONSTANCY 

Through  which  the  queen  of  beauty's  queens  shall  see 
Herself  the  ground  of  my  infirmity.  — 

Re-enter  Lodwick. 
Hast  thou  pen,  ink,  and  paper  ready,  Lodwick  ? 

Lod. 

Ready,  my  liege. 

K.  Ed. 

Then  in  the  summer  arbour  sit  by  me, 

Make  it  our  council-house,  or  cabinet; 

Since  green  our  thoughts,  green  be  the  conventicle 

Where  we  will  ease  us  by  disburd'ning  them. 

Now,  Lodwick,  invocate  some  golden  muse 

To  bring  thee  hither  an  enchanted  pen 

That  may,  for  sighs,  set  down  true  sighs  indeed; 

Talking  of  grief,  to  make  thee  ready  groan ; 

And,  when  thou  writ'st  of  tears,  encouch  the  word, 

Before  and  after,  with  such  sweet  laments, 

That  it  may  raise  drops  in  a  Tartars  eye, 

And  make  a  flint-heart  Scythian  pitiful: 

For  so  much  moving  hath  a  poet's  pen ; 

Then,  if  thou  be  a  poet,  move  thou  so, 

And  be  enriched  by  thy  sovereign's  love. 

For,  if  the  touch  of  sweet  concordant  strings 

Could  force  attendance  in  the  ears  of  hell ; 

How  much  more  shall  the  strains  of  poet's  wit 

Beguile  and  ravish  soft  and  human  minds? 

Lod. 

To  whom,  my  lord,  shall  I  direct  my  style? 

K.  Ed. 

To  one  that  shames  the  fair  and  sots  the  wise; 


LOVE'S   CONSTANCY  85 

Whose  body  is  an  abstract  or  a  brief, 
Contains  each  general  virtue  in  the  world. 
Better  than  beautiful,  thou  must  begin; 
Devise  for  fair  a  fairer  word  than  fair; 
And  every  ornament,  that  thou  wouldst  praise 
Fly  it  a  pitch  above  the  soar  of  praise: 
For  flattery  fear  thou  not  to  be  convicted; 
For,  were  thy  admiration  ten  times  more, 
Ten  times  ten  thousand  more  the  worth  exceeds, 
Of  that  thou  art  to  praise,  thy  praise's  worth. 
Begin,  I  will  to  contemplate  the  while: 
Forget  not  to  set  down,  how  passionate, 
How  heart-sick,  and  how  full  of  languishment, 
Her  beauty  makes  me. 

Lod. 

Write  I  to  a  woman? 
K.  Ed. 

What  beauty  else  could  triumph  over  me; 
Or  who,  but  women,  do  our  love-lays  greet? 
What,  think'st  thou  I  did  bid  thee  praise  a  horse? 

Lod. 

Of  what  condition  or  estate  she  is, 

'Twere  requisite  that  I  should  know,  my  lord. 

K.Ed. 

Of  such  estate,  that  hers  is  as  a  throne, 

And  my  estate  the  footstool  where  she  treads : 

Then  may'st  thou  judge  what  her  condition  is, 

By  the  proportion  of  her  mightiness. 

Write  on,  while  I  peruse  her  in  my  thoughts. 

[Soft  music  is   again   heard 
coming' from  the  apartments. 


86  LOVE'S   CONSTANCY 

Her  voice  to  music,  or  the  nightingale: 

To  music  every  summer-leaping  swain 

Compares  his  sun-burnt  lover  when  she  speaks: 

And  why  should  I  speak  of  the  nightingale  ? 

The  nightingale  sings  of  adulterate  wrong ; 

And  that,  compar'd,  is  too  satirical: 

For  sin,  though  sin,  would  not  be  so  esteemM; 

But,  rather,  virtue  sin,  sin  virtue  deem'd. 

Her  hair,  far  softer  than  the  silkworm's  twist, 

Like  to  a  flattering  glass,  doth  make  more  fair 

The  yellow  amber:  "like  a  flattering  glass" 

Comes  in  too  soon ;  for,  writing  of  her  eyes, 

I'll  say,  that  like  a  glass  they  catch  the  sun, 

And  thence  the  hot  reflection  doth  rebound 

Against  my  breast,  and  burns  my  heart  within. 

Ah,  what  a  world  of  descant  makes  my  soul 

Upon  this  voluntary  ground  of  love !  —     [Music  ceases. 

Come,  Lodwick,  hast  thou  turn'd  thy  ink  to  gold? 

If  not,  write  but  in  letters  capital 

My  mistress?  name,  and  it  will  gild  thy  paper. 

Read,  Lodwick,  read; 

Fill  thou  the  empty  hollows  of  mine  ears 

With  the  sweet  hearing  of  thy  poetry. 

Lod. 

I  have  not  to  a  period  brought  her  praise. 

K.Ed. 

Her  praise  is  as  my  love,  both  infinite, 

Which  apprehend  such  violent  extremes 

That  they  disdain  an  ending  period. 

Her  beauty  hath  no  match  but  my  affection; 

Hers  more  than  most,  mine  most,  and  more  than  more: 


LOVE'S   CONSTANCY  87 

Hers  more  to  praise  than  tell  the  sea  by  drops; 
Nay,  more,  than  drop  the  massy  earth  by  sands, 
And,  sand  by  sand,  print  them  in  memory: 
Then  wherefore  talk'st  thou  of  a  period, 
To  that  which  craves  unended  admiration? 
Read,  let  us  hear. 

Lod. 

"More  fair  and  chaste  than  is  the  queen  of  shades," — 

K.  Ed. 

That  line  hath  two  faults,  gross  and  palpable: 
Compar'st  thou  her  to  the  pale  queen  of  night, 
Who,  being  set  in  dark,  seems  therefore  light? 
What  is  she,  when  the  sun  lifts  up  his  head, 
But  like  a  fading  taper,  dim  and  dead? 
My  love  shall  brave  the  eye  of  heaven  at  noon, 
And,  being  unmasked,  outshine  the  golden  sun. 

Lod. 

What  is  the  other  fault,  my  sovereign  lord? 

K.  Ed. 

Read  o'er  the  line  again. 

Lod. 

"More  fair  and  chaste," — 

K.Ed. 

I  did  not  bid  thee  talk  of  chastity, 

To  ransack  so  the  treasure  of  her  mind ; 

For  I  had  rather  have  her  chas'd,  than  chaste. 

Out  with  the  moon-line,  I  will  none  of  it, 

And  let  me  have  her  liken'd  to  the  sun : 

Say,  she  hath  thrice  more  splendour  than  the  sun, 


88  LOVE'S    CONSTANCY 

That  her  perfections  emulates  the  sun, 

That  she  breeds  sweets  as  plenteous  as  the  sun, 

That  she  doth  thaw  cold  winter  like  the  sun, 

That  she  doth  cheer  fresh  summer  like  the  sun, 

That  she  doth  dazzle  gazers  like  the  sun : 

And,  in  this  application  to  the  sun, 

Bid  her  be  free  and  general  as  the  sun; 

Who  smiles  upon  the  basest  weed  that  grows, 

As  lovingly  as  on  the  fragrant  rose. 

Let's  see  what  follows  that  same  moon -light  line. 

Lod. 

"More  fair  and  chaste  than  is  the  queen  of  shades; 

More  bold  in  constancy" — 

K.  Ed. 

In  constancy!  than  who? 

Lod. 

—  "than  Judith  was." 

K.  Ed. 

0  monstrous  line!  Put  in  the  next  a  sword, 
And  I  shall  woo  her  to  cut  off  my  head. 

Blot,  blot,  good  Lodwick !  Let  us  hear  the  next. 

Lod. 

There's  all  that  yet  is  done. 

K.  Ed. 

1  thank  thee  then,  thou  hast  done  little  ill; 
But  what  is  done,  is  passing  passing  ill. 
No,  let  the  captain  talk  of  boist'rous  war; 
The  prisoner,  of  immured  dark  constraint ; 

The  sick  man  best  sets  down  the  pangs  of  death ; 


LOVE'S   CONSTANCY  89 

The  man  that  starves,  the  sweetness  of  a  feast; 
The  frozen  soul,  the  benefit  of  fire ; 
And  every  grief,  his  happy  opposite. 

[Soft  music  begins  again. 
Love  cannot  sound  well,  but  in  lovers'  tongues; 
Give  me  the  pen  and  paper,  I  will  write. — 

Enter  Countess  with  Warwick  and  attendants,  who 

remain  near  the  door. 
But  soft,  here  comes  the  treasurer  of  my  spirit.  — 
Lodwick,  thou  know'st  not  how  to  draw  a  battle; 
These  wings,  these  flankers,  and  these  squadrons 
Argue  in  thee  defective  discipline: 
Thou  shouldst  have  plac'd  this  here,  this  other  here. 

Count. 

Pardon  my  boldness,  my  thrice-gracious  lord; 
Let  my  intrusion  here  be  call'd  my  duty, 
That  comes  to  see  my  sovereign  how  he  fares. 

K.  Ed. 

Go,  draw  the  same,  I  tell  thee  in  what  form. 

Lod. 

I  go.  [Lodwick  retires  to  the  terrace:  music  ceases. 

Count. 

Sorry  I  am,  to  see  my  liege  so  sad : 

What  may  thy  subject  do,  to  drive  from  thee 

Thy  gloomy  consort,  sullen  melancholy? 

K.  Ed. 

Ah,  lady,  I  am  blunt,  and  cannot  strew 
The  flowers  of  solace,  in  a  ground  of  shame : 
Since  I  came  hither,  countess,  I  am  wrong'd. 


90  LOVE'S   CONSTANCY 

Count. 

Now,  God  forbid,  that  any  in  my  house 

Should  think  my  sovereign  wrong !  Thrice-gentle  king, 

Acquaint  me  with  your  cause  of  discontent. 

K.  Ed. 

How  near  then  shall  I  be  to  remedy? 

Count. 

As  near,  my  liege,  as  all  my  woman's  power 

Can  pawn  itself  to  buy  thy  remedy. 

K.  Ed. 

If  thou  speak'st  true,  then  have  I  my  redress: 
Engage  thy  power  to  redeem  my  joys, 
And  I  am  joyful,  countess;  else,  I  die. 

Count. 

I  will,  my  liege. 

K.  Ed. 

Swear,  countess,  that  thou  wilt. 

Count. 

By  Heaven,  I  will. 
K.  Ed. 

Then  take  thyself  a  little  way  aside, 
And  tell  thyself,  a  king  doth  dote  on  thee : 
Say  that  within  thy  power  it  doth  lie 
To  make  him  happy,  and  that  thou  hast  sworn 
To  give  him  all  the  joy  within  thy  power: 
Do  this;  and  tell  me,  when  I  shall  be  happy. 

Count. 

All  this  is  done,  my  thrice-dread  sovereign : 

That  power  of  love,  that  I  have  power  to  give, 


LOVE'S   CONSTANCY  91 

Thou  hast  with  all  devout  obedience; 
Employ  me  how  thou  wilt  in  proof  thereof. 

K.Ed. 

Thou  hear'st  me  say,  that  I  do  dote  on  thee. 

Count. 

If  on  my  beauty,  take  it  if  thou  canst; 
Though  little,  I  do  prize  it  ten  times  less: 
If  on  my  virtue,  take  it  if  thou  canst ; 
For  virtue's  store  by  giving  doth  augment: 
Be  it  on  what  it  will,  that  I  can  give 
And  thou  canst  take  away,  inherit  it. 

K.Ed. 

It  is  thy  beauty  that  I  would  enjoy. 

Count. 

O,  were  it  painted,  I  would  wipe  it  off 

And  dispossess  myself,  to  give  it  thee. 

But,  sovereign,  it  is  solder'd  to  my  life; 

Take  one,  and  both;  for,  like  an  humble  shadow, 

It  haunts  the  sunshine  of  my  summer's  life. 

K.Ed. 

But  thou  may'st  lend  it  me. 

Count. 

As  easy  may  my  intellectual  soul 

Be  lent  away,  and  yet  my  body  live, 

As  lend  my  body,  palace  to  my  soul, 

Away  from  her,  and  yet  retain  my  soul. 

If  I  should  lend  her  house,  my  lord,  to  thee, 

I  kill  my  poor  soul,  and  my  poor  soul  me. 


92  LOVE'S   CONSTANCY 

K.Ed. 

Didst  thou  not  swear,  to  give  me  what  I  would? 

Count. 

I  did,  my  liege;  so,  what  you  would,  I  could. 

K.  Ed. 

I  wish  no  more  of  thee  than  thou  may'st  give, 

Nor  beg  I  do  not,  but  I  rather  buy; 

That  is,  thy  love ;  and,  for  that  love  of  thine, 

In  rich  exchange,  I  tender  to  thee  mine. 

Count. 

But  that  your  lips  were  sacred,  O  my  lord! 

You  would  profane  the  holy  name  of  love. 

That  love,  you  offer  me,  you  cannot  give, 

For  Caesar  owes  that  tribute  to  his  queen : 

That  love,  you  beg  of  me,  I  cannot  give, 

For  Sara  owes  that  duty  to  her  lord. 

He  that  doth  clip  or  counterfeit  your  stamp 

Shall  die,  my  lord:  and  will  your  sacred  self 

Commit  high  treason  against  the  King  of  Heaven, 

To  stamp  his  image  in  forbidden  metal, 

Forgetting  your  allegiance  or  your  oath? 

In  violating  marriage'  sacred  law, 

You  break  a  greater  honour  than  yourself: 

To  be  a  king,  is  of  a  younger  house 

Than  to  be  married;  your  progenitor, 

Sole-reigning  Adam  on  the  universe, 

By  God  was  honour'd  for  a  married  man, 

But  not  by  him  anointed  for  a  king. 

It  is  a  penalty  to  break  your  statutes, 

Though  not  enacted  with  your  highness'  hand: 


LOVE'S   CONSTANCY  93 

How  much  more,  to  infringe  the  holy  act 
Made  by  the  mouth  of  God,  seal'd  with  his  hand? 
I  know,  my  sovereign — in  my  husband's  love, 
Who  now  doth  loyal  service  in  his  wars — 
Doth  but  to  try  the  wife  of  Salisbury, 
Whether  she  will  hear  a  wanton's  tale,  or  no; 
Lest  being  therein  guilty  by  my  stay, 
From  that,  not  from  my  liege,  I  turn  away. 

[Countess  joins  Warwick  and  her  at- 
tendants and  retires  with  them  to  the  terrace. 
K.  Ed. 

Whether  is  her  beauty  by  her  words  divine, 
Or  are  her  words  sweet  chaplains  to  her  beauty  ? 
Like  as  the  wind  doth  beautify  a  sail, 
And  as  a  sail  becomes  the  unseen  wind, 
So  do  her  words  her  beauty,  beauty  words. 
O,  that  I  were  a  honey-gathering  bee, 
To  bear  the  comb  of  virtue  from  his  flower; 
And  not  a  poison-sucking  envious  spider, 
To  turn  the  juice  I  take  to  deadly  venom! 
Religion  is  austere,  and  beauty  gentle; 
Too  strict  a  guardian  for  so  fair  a  ward. 
O,  that  she  were,  as  is  the  air,  to  me! 
Why,  so  she  is;  for,  when  I  would  embrace  her, 
This  do  I,  and  catch  nothing  but  myself. 
I  must  possess  her;  for  I  cannot  beat, 
With  reason  and  reproof,  fond  love  away. 

Warwick  comes  from  the  terrace. 
Here  comes  her  father:  I  will  work  with  him, 
To  bear  my  colours  in  this  field  of  love. 


94  LOVE'S   CONSTANCY 

War. 

How  is  it,  that  my  sovereign  is  so  sad? 

May  I  with  pardon  know  your  highness'  grief, 

And  that  my  old  endeavour  will  remove  it, 

It  shall  not  cumber  long  your  majesty. 

K.  Ed. 

A  kind  and  voluntary  gift  thou  proffer'st, 

That  I  was  forward  to  have  begg'd  of  thee. 

But,  O  thou  world,  great  nurse  of  flattery, 

Why  dost  thou  tip  men's  tongues  with  golden  words 

And  peise  their  deeds  with  weight  of  heavy  lead, 

That  fair  performance  cannot  follow  promise? 

O,  that  a  man  might  hold  the  heart's  close  book, 

And  choke  the  lavish  tongue  when  it  doth  utter 

The  breath  of  falsehood  not  character'd  there ! 

War. 

Far  be  it  from  the  honour  of  my  age 

That  I  should  owe  bright  gold  and  render  lead! 

Age  is  a  cynic,  not  a  flatterer: 

I  say  again,  that,  if  I  knew  your  grief, 

And  that  by  me  it  may  be  lessened, 

My  proper  harm  should  buy  your  highness'  good. 

K.Ed. 

These  are  the  vulgar  tenders  of  false  men, 

That  never  pay  the  duty  of  their  words. 

Thou  wilt  not  stick  to  swear  what  thou  hast  said; 

But,  when  thou  know'st  my  grief's  condition, 

This  rash-disgorged  vomit  of  thy  word 

Thou  wilt  eat  up  again,  and  leave  me  helpless. 


LOVE'S   CONSTANCY  95 

War. 

By  Heaven,  I  will  not,  though  your  majesty 

Did  bid  me  run  upon  your  sword  and  die. 

K.  Ed. 

Say,  that  my  grief  is  no  way  med'cinable, 

But  by  the  loss  and  bruising  of  thine  honour  ? 

War. 

If  nothing  but  that  loss  may  vantage  you, 

I  would  account  that  loss  my  vantage  too. 

K.Ed. 

Think'st  that  thou  canst  unswear  thy  oath  again  ? 

War. 

I  cannot ;  nor  I  would  not,  if  I  could. 

K.  Ed. 

But,  if  thou  dost,  what  shall  I  say  to  thee  ? 

War. 

What  may  be  said  to  any  perjur'd  villain 
That  breaks  the  sacred  warrant  of  an  oath. 

K.Ed. 

What  wilt  thou  say  to  one  that  breaks  an  oath? 

War. 

That  he  hath  broke  his  faith  with  God  and  man 

And  from  them  both  stands  excommunicate. 

K.Ed. 

What  office  were  it  to  suggest  a  man 
To  break  a  lawful  and  religious  vow? 

War. 

An  office  for  the  devil,  not  for  man. 


96  LOVE'S   CONSTANCY 

K.  Ed. 

That  devil's  office  must  thou  do  for  me; 
Or  break  thy  oath  and  cancel  all  the  bonds 
Of  love  and  duty  'twixt  thyself  and  me. 
And  therefore,  Warwick,  if  thou  art  thyself, 
The  lord  and  master  of  thy  word  and  oath, 
Go  to  thy  daughter,  and  in  my  behalf 
Command  her,  woo  her,  win  her  any  ways, 
To  be  my  mistress  and  my  secret  love. 
I  will  not  stand  to  hear  thee  make  reply; 
Thy  oath  break  hers,  or  let  thy  sovereign  die. 

[The  King  goes  into  the  castle. 
War. 

O  doting  king!  O  detestable  office! 
Well  may  I  tempt  myself  to  wrong  myself, 
When  he  hath  sworn  me  by  the  name  of  God 
To  break  a  vow  made  by  the  name  of  God. 
What  if  I  swear  by  this  right  hand  of  mine 
To  cut  this  right  hand  off?  the  better  way 
Were  to  profane  the  idol  than  confound  it: 
But  neither  will  I  do;  I'll  keep  mine  oath, 
And  to  my  daughter  make  a  recantation 
Of  all  the  virtue  I  have  preach'd  to  her. 
I'll  say,  she  must  forget  her  husband  Salisbury, 
If  she  remember  to  embrace  the  king; 
I'll  say,  an  oath  may  easily  be  broken, 
But  not  so  easily  pardon'd,  being  broken; 
I'll  say,  it  is  true  charity  to  love, 
But  not  true  love  to  be  so  charitable; 
I'll  say,  his  greatness  may  bear  out  the  shame, 
But  not  his  kingdom  can  buy  out  the  sin ; 


LOVE'S   CONSTANCY  97 

I'll  say,  it  is  my  duty  to  persuade, 
But  not  her  honesty  to  give  consent. 

Countess  comes  from  the  terrace. 
See,  where  she  comes:  was  never  father,  had 
Against  his  child  an  embassage  so  bad. 

Count. 

My  lord  and  father,  I  have  sought  for  you: 

My  mother  and  the  peers  importune  you 

To  keep  in  presence  of  his  majesty 

And  do  your  best  to  make  his  highness  merry. 

War.  [aside] 

How  shall  I  enter  in  this  arrant  errand? 

I  must  not  call  her  child;  for  where 's  the  father 

That  will,  in  such  a  suit,  seduce  his  child  ? 

Then,  Wife  of  Salisbury, — shall  I  so  begin? 

No,  he's  my  friend;  and  where  is  found  the  friend, 

That  will  do  friendship  such  endamagement? — 

[To  the  Countess.]  Neither  my  daughter,  nor  my  dear 

friend's  wife, 
I  am  not  Warwick,  as  thou  think'st  I  am, 
But  an  attorney  from  the  court  of  hell ; 
That  thus  have  hous'd  my  spirit  in  his  form, 
To  do  a  message  to  thee  from  the  king. 
The  mighty  King  of  England  dotes  on  thee : 
He  that  hath  power  to  take  away  thy  life 
Hath  power  to  take  thine  honour;  then  consent 
To  pawn  thine  honour,  rather  than  thy  life: 
Honour  is  often  lost  and  got  again; 
But  life,  once  gone,  hath  no  recovery, 
The  sun,  that  withers  hay,  doth  nourish  grass; 
The  king  that  would  distain  thee  will  advance  thee. 


98  LOVE'S   CONSTANCY 

The  poets  write  that  great  Achilles'*  spear 
Could  heal  the  wound  it  made;  the  moral  is, 
What  mighty  men  misdo,  they  can  amend. 
The  lion  doth  become  his  bloody  jaws 
And  grace  his  foragement,  by  being  mild 
When  vassal  fear  lies  trembling  at  his  feet. 
The  king  will  in  his  glory  hide  thy  shame; 
And  those  that  gaze  on  him  to  find  out  thee 
Will  lose  their  eyesight,  looking  in  the  sun. 
What  can  one  drop  of  poison  harm  the  sea, 
Whose  hugy  vastures  can  digest  the  ill 
And  make  it  lose  his  operation  ? 
The  king's  great  name  will  temper  thy  misdeeds, 
And  give  the  bitter  potion  of  reproach 
A  sugar'd-sweet  and  most  delicious  taste : 
Besides,  it  is  no  harm,  to  do  the  thing 
Which  without  shame  could  not  be  left  undone. 
Thus  have  I,  in  his  majesty's  behalf, 
ApparelPd  sin  in  virtuous  sentences, 
And  dwell  upon  thy  answer  in  his  suit. 

Count. 

Unnatural  besiege!  Woe  me  unhappy, 

To  have  escap'd  the  danger  of  my  foes 

And  to  be  ten  times  worse  envir'd  by  friends! 

Hath  he  no  means  to  stain  my  honest  blood, 

But  to  corrupt  the  author  of  my  blood 

To  be  his  scandalous  and  vile  solicitor? 

No  marvel,  though  the  branches  be  then  infected, 

When  poison  hath  encompassed  the  root: 

Why  then,  give  sin  a  passport  to  offend, 

And  youth  the  dangerous  rein  of  liberty : 


LOVE'S   CONSTANCY  99 

Blot  out  the  strict  forbidding  of  the  law ; 
And  cancel  every  canon,  that  prescribes 
A  shame  for  shame,  or  penance  for  offence. 
No,  let  me  die,  if  his  too  boisfrous  will 
Will  have  it  so,  before  I  will  consent 
To  be  an  actor  in  his  graceless  lust. 

War. 

Why,  now  thou  speak'st  as  I  would  have  thee  speak: 

And  mark  how  I  unsay  my  words  again. 

An  honourable  grave  is  more  esteem'd 

Than  the  polluted  closet  of  a  king : 

The  greater  man,  the  greater  is  the  thing, 

Be  it  good  or  bad,  that  he  shall  undertake : 

An  unreputed  mote,  flying  in  the  sun, 

Presents  a  greater  substance  than  it  is: 

The  freshest  summer's  day  doth  soonest  taint 

The  loathed  carrion  that  it  seems  to  kiss: 

Deep  are  the  blows  made  with  a  mighty  axe: 

The  sin  doth  ten  times  aggravate  itself, 

That  is  committed  in  a  holy  place : 

An  evil  deed,  done  by  authority, 

Is  sin  and  subornation:  deck  an  ape 

In  tissue,  and  the  beauty  of  the  robe 

Adds  but  the  greater  scorn  unto  the  beast. 

A  spacious  field  of  reasons  could  I  urge 

Between  his  glory,  daughter,  and  thy  shame: 

That  poison  shows  worst  in  a  golden  cup; 

Dark  night  seems  darker  by  the  lightning-flash; 

Lilies  that  fester  smell  far  worse  than  weeds; 

And  every  glory  that  inclines  to  sin, 

The  shame  is  treble  by  the  opposite. 


100  LOVE'S   CONSTANCY 

So  leave  I,  with  my  blessings  in  thy  bosom; 

Which  then  convert  to  a  most  heavy  curse, 

When  thou  convert'st  from  honour's  golden  name 

To  the  black  faction  of  unblushing  shame ! 

[Warwick  retires  by  the  terrace. 
Count. 

I'll  follow  thee;  and,  when  my  mind  turns  so, 

My  body  sink  my  soul  in  endless  woe!  [Retires. 

A  trumpet  sounds,  Derby  with  attendants  cross  from 
the  castle  to  the  right  of  the  stage;  then  Audley  en- 
ters attended. 

Aud. 

What  news,  my  Lord  of  Derby,  from  the  emperor? 

Dee. 

As  good  as  we  desire:  the  emperor 

Hath  yielded  to  his  highness  friendly  aid; 

And  makes  our  king  lieutenant-general 

In  all  his  lands  and  large  dominions : 

Then  via  for  the  spacious  bounds  of  France! 

Aud. 

What,  doth  his  highness  leap  to  hear  these  news? 

Der. 

I  have  not  yet  found  time  to  open  them; 

The  king  is  in  his  closet,  malcontent, 

For  what  I  know  not,  but  he  gave  in  charge, 

Till  after  dinner,  none  should  interrupt  him: 

The  Countess  Salisbury,  and  her  father  Warwick, 

Artois,  and  all,  look  underneath  the  brows. 


LOVE'S   CONSTANCY  101 

Aud. 

Undoubtedly  then  something  is  amiss. 

Here  comes  his  highness. 

Re-enter  King  Edward. 
Der. 

Befall  my  sovereign  all  my  sovereign's  wish! 

K.  Ed. 

Ah,  that  thou  wert  a  witch,  to  make  it  so ! 

Der. 

The  emperor  greeteth  you :  [Presenting  letters. 

K.  Ed. 

Would  it  were  the  countess! 
Der. 

And  hath  accorded  to  your  highness'  suit  — 

K.  Ed. 

Thou  liest,  she  hath  not;  but  I  would,  she  had! 

Aud. 

All  love  and  duty  to  my  lord  the  king! 

K.  Ed. 

Well,  all  but  one  is  none: — what  news  with  you? 

Aud. 

I  have,  my  liege,  levied  those  horse  and  foot, 

According  to  your  charge,  and  brought  them  hither. 

K.  Ed. 

Then  let  those  foot  trudge  hence  upon  those  horse, 

According  to  our  discharge,  and  be  gone. — 

Derby, 

I'll  look  upon  the  countess'  mind  anon. 


102  LOVE'S    CONSTANCY 

Der. 

The  countess**  mind,  my  liege? 

K.  Ed. 

I  mean  the  emperor:  leave  me  alone. 

Aud. 

What's  in  his  mind? 

Der.  Let's  leave  him  to  his  humour. 

[Derby  and  Audley  retire. 
K.  Ed. 

Thus  from  the  heart's  abundance  speaks  the  tongue; 
Countess  for  emperor:  and,  indeed,  why  not? 
She  is  as  imperator  over  me; 
And  I  to  her 

Am  as  a  kneeling  vassal  that  observes 
The  pleasure  or  displeasure  of  her  eye.  — 

Lodwick  comes  from  the  terrace. 
What  says  the  more  than  Cleopatra's  match 
To  Caesar  now? 

Lod. 

That  yet,  my  liege,  ere  night, 
She  will  resolve  your  majesty. 

[A  drum  and  march  are  heard  in  the  distance. 
K.  Ed. 

What  drum  is  this,  that  thunders  forth  this  march, 
To  start  the  tender  Cupid  in  my  bosom? 
Poor  sheep-skin,  how  it  brawls  with  him  that  beateth  it ! 
Go,  break  the  thund'ring  parchment-bottom  out, 
And  I  will  teach  it  to  conduct  sweet  lines 
Unto  the  bosom  of  a  heavenly  nymph : 


LOVE'S   CONSTANCY  103 

For  I  will  use  it  as  my  writing-paper; 

And  so  reduce  him,  from  a  scolding  drum, 

To  be  the  herald  and  dear  counsel-bearer 

Betwixt  a  goddess  and  a  mighty  king. 

Go,  bid  the  drummer  learn  to  touch  the  lute, 

Or  hang  him  in  the  braces  of  his  drum ; 

For  now  we  think  it  an  uncivil  thing, 

To  trouble  heaven  with  such  harsh  resounds: 

Away. —        [Lodwick  retires  to  the  right  of  the  stage. 

The  quarrel,  that  I  have,  requires  no  arms 

But  these  of  mine;  and  these  shall  meet  my  foe 

In  a  deep  march  of  penetrable  groans : 

My  eyes  shall  be  my  arrows;  and  my  sighs 

Shall  serve  me  as  the  vantage  of  the  wind, 

To  whirl  away  my  sweet'st  artillery: 

Ah  but,  alas,  she  wins  the  sun  of  me, 

For  that  is  she  herself;  and  thence  it  comes 

That  poets  term  the  wanton  warrior  blind; 

But  love  hath  eyes  as  judgment  to  his  steps, 

Till  too-much-loved  glory  dazzles  them. — 

Lodwick  returns;  the  drum  and  march  nearer. 
How  now? 

Lod. 

My  liege,  the  drum  that  struck  the  lusty  march 
Stands  with  Prince  Edward,  your  thrice-valiant  son. 

A  flourish  and  then  enter  on  the  right  Prince  Edward, 
who  is  received  by  Derby  and  Audley  :  soft  music  is 
again  heard  from  the  apartments. 

K.  Ed. 

I  see  the  boy.  O,  how  his  mother's  face, 


104  LOVE'S   CONSTANCY 

Modell'd  in  his,  corrects  my  stray'd  desire 

And  rates  my  heart  and  chides  my  thievish  eye; 

Who  being  rich  enough  in  seeing  her, 

Yet  seeks  elsewhere:  and  basest  theft  is  that 

Which  cannot  cloak  itself  on  poverty.  — 

Now,  boy,  what  news? 

Pr.  Ed.  [kneels] 

I  have  assembled,  my  dear  lord  and  father, 
The  choicest  buds  of  all  our  English  blood 
For  our  affairs  to  France :  and  here  we  come, 
To  take  directions  from  your  majesty. 

K.Ed. 

Still  do  I  see  in  him  delineate 

His  mother's  visage;  those  his  eyes  are  hers, 

Who  looking  wistly  on  me  make  me  blush; 

For  faults  against  themselves  give  evidence: 

Lust  is  a  fire;  and  men,  like  Ian  thorns,  show 

Light  lust  within  themselves,  even  through  themselves. 

Away,  loose  silks  of  wavering  vanity ! 

Shall  the  large  limit  of  fair  Brittany 

By  me  be  overthrown?  and  shall  I  not 

Master  this  little  mansion  of  myself? 

Give  me  an  armour  of  eternal  steel; 

I  go  to  conquer  kings;  and  shall  I  then 

Subdue  myself  and  be  my  enemy's  friend? 

It  must  not  be. — Come,  boy,  forward,  advance! 

Let's  with  our  colours  sweet  the  air  of  France. 

Drum  and  trumpet  heard  in  the  distance;  Lodwick  ad- 
vances from  the  terrace. 


LOVE'S   CONSTANCY  105 

Lod. 

My  liege,  the  countess  with  a  smiling  cheer 

Desires  access  unto  your  majesty. 

K.Ed. 

Why,  there  it  goes!  that  very  smile  of  hers 
Hath  ransom'd  captive  France,  and  set  the  king, 
The  dauphin,  and  the  peers,  at  liberty. — 
Go,  leave  me,  Ned,  and  revel  with  thy  friends. 

[The  Prince  retires. 
Thy  mother  is  but  black;  and  thou,  like  her, 
Dost  put  into  my  mind  how  foul  she  is.  — 
Go,  fetch  the  countess  hither  in  thy  hand 
And  let  her  chase  away  those  winter  clouds; 
For  she  gives  beauty  both  to  heaven  and  earth. 

[Lod wick  retires. 
The  sin  is  more  to  hack  and  hew  poor  men, 
Than  to  embrace  in  an  unlawful  way. 
The  register  of  all  true  rarieties 
Since  leathern  Adam  till  this  youngest  hour. 

Hie  Countess  advances. 
Now,  my  soul's  playfellow!  art  thou  come, 
To  speak  the  more  than  heavenly  word  of  yea 
To  my  objection  in  thy  beauteous  love?     [Music  ceases. 

Count. 

My  father  on  his  blessing  hath  commanded  — 

K.Ed. 

That  thou  shalt  yield  to  me. 

Count. 

Ay,  dear  my  liege,  your  due. 


106  LOVE'S   CONSTANCY 

K.Ed. 

And  that,  my  dearest  love,  can  be  no  less 
Than  right  for  right  and  tender  love  for  love. 

Count. 

Than  wrong  for  wrong  and  endless  hate  for  hate, 

But, — sith  I  see  your  majesty  so  bent, 

That  my  unwillingness,  my  husband's  love, 

Your  high  estate,  nor  no  respect  respected 

Can  be  my  help,  but  that  your  mightiness 

Will  overbear  and  awe  these  dear  regards, — 

I  bind  my  discontent  to  my  content, 

And,  what  I  would  not,  I'll  compel  I  will; 

Provided  that  yourself  remove  those  lets 

That  stand  between  your  highness'  love  and  mine. 

K.Ed. 

Name  them,  fair  countess,  and  by  heaven,  I  will. 

Count. 

It  is  their  lives  that  stand  between  our  love, 

That  I  would  have  chok'd  up,  my  sovereign. 

K.Ed. 

Whose  lives,  my  lady? 

Count. 

My  thrice-loving  liege, 
Your  queen,  and  Salisbury  my  wedded  husband; 
Who  living  have  that  title  in  our  love 
That  we  cannot  bestow  but  by  their  death. 

K.Ed. 

Thy  opposition  is  beyond  our  law. 


LOVE'S   CONSTANCY  107 

Count. 

So  is  your  desire :  if  the  law 

Can  hinder  you  to  execute  the  one, 

Let  it  forbid  you  to  attempt  the  other: 

I  cannot  think  you  love  me  as  you  say 

Unless  you  do  make  good  what  you  have  sworn. 

K.Ed. 

No  more;  thy  husband  and  the  queen  shall  die. 
Fairer  thou  art  by  far  than  Hero  was; 
Beardless  Leander  not  so  strong  as  I : 
He  swum  an  easy  current  for  his  love; 
But  I  will  through  a  Hellespont  of  blood 
To  arrive  at  Sestos  where  my  Hero  lies. 

Count. 

Nay,  you'll  do  more;  you'll  make  the  river,  too, 
With  their  heart-bloods  that  keep  our  love  asunder, 
Of  which  my  husband  and  your  wife  are  twain. 

K.  Ed. 

Thy  beauty  makes  them  guilty  of  their  death 

And  gives  in  evidence  that  they  shall  die; 

Upon  which  verdict,  I,  their  judge,  condemn  them. 

Count. 

O  perjur'd  beauty!  more  corrup ted  judge! 

When  to  the  great  star-chamber  o'er  our  heads 

The  universal  sessions  calls  to  count 

This  packing  evil,  we  both  shall  tremble  for  it. 

K.Ed. 

What  says  my  fair  love?  is  she  resolute? 


108  LOVE'S   CONSTANCY 

Count. 

Resolv'd  to  be  dissolv'd;  and,  therefore,  this, — 
Keep  but  thy  word,  great  king,  and  I  am  thine. 
Stand  where  thou  dost,  I'll  part  a  little  from  thee, 
And  see  how  I  will  yield  me  to  thy  hands. 

[Turning-  suddenly  upon  him, 
and    showing    two   daggers. 
Here  by  my  side  doth  hang  my  wedding  knives: 
Take  thou  the  one  and  with  it  kill  thy  queen 
And  learn  by  me  to  find  her  where  she  lies; 
And  with  this  other  I'll  despatch  my  love, 
Which  now  lies  fast  asleep  within  my  heart: 
When  they  are  gone,  then  I'll  consent  to  love. 
Stir  not,  lascivious  king,  to  hinder  me; 
My  resolution  is  more  nimbler  far 
Than  thy  prevention  can  be  in  my  rescue, 
And,  if  thou  stir,  I  strike :  therefore  stand  still, 
And  hear  the  choice  that  I  will  put  thee  to: 
Either  swear  to  leave  thy  most  unholy  suit, 
And  never  henceforth  to  solicit  me; 
Or  else,  by  Heaven,  [kneeling]  this  sharp-pointed  knife 
Shall  stain  thy  earth  with  that  which  thou  wouldst  stain, 
My  poor  chaste  blood.  Swear,  Edward,  swear, 
Or  I  will  strike,  and  die  before  thee  here. 

K.Ed. 

Even  by  that  Power  I  swear,  that  gives  me  now 
The  power  to  be  ashamed  of  myself, 
I  never  mean  to  part  my  lips  again 
In  any  words  that  tends  to  such  a  suit. 
Arise,  true  English  lady,  whom  our  isle 
May  better  boast  of,  than  e'er  Roman  might 


LOVE'S   CONSTANCY  109 

Of  her,  whose  ransack'd  treasury  hath  task'd 
The  vain  endeavour  of  so  many  pens : 
Arise;  and  be  my  fault  thy  honour's  fame, 
Which  after-ages  shall  enrich  thee  with. 
I  am  awaked  from  this  idle  dream:  — 

[Drum  and  trumpet  are  heard  in  the  distance. 
Warwick,  my  son,  Derby,  Artois,  and  Audley, 
Brave  warriors  all,  where  are  you  all  this  while? 

The  Prince  and  Lords  advance;  the  stage  Jills  with 

soldiers. 
Warwick,  I  make  thee  Warden  of  the  North:  — 
Thou,  Prince  of  Wales,  and  Audley,  straight  to  sea; 
Scour  to  Newhaven;  some  there  stay  for  me:  — 
Myself,  Artois,  and  Derby,  will  through  Flanders 
To  greet  our  friends  there  and  to  crave  their  aid; 
This  night  will  scarce  suffice  me  to  discover 
My  folly's  siege  against  a  faithful  lover; 
For,  ere  the  sun  shall  gild  the  eastern  sky, 
We'll  wake  him  with  our  martial  harmony. 

There  is  flourish,  and  then  the  drums  play  a  march;  the 
Countess  kneels  and  kisses  the  King's  hand  with 
marked  reverence;  he  then  goes  out  on  the  right  with 
the  Prince  a?zc?LoRD  ^followed  by  the  attendants  and 
soldiers.  The  Countess  is  seen  again  standing  alone 
on  the  terrace  looking  towards  the  plain;  the  stage  is 
nearly  dark. 

Curtain 


APPENDIX 

IT   may  be   interesting   to  note   some  of  the   passages 
in  Loves  Constancy  which   recall,  either   by  phrase   or 
thought,  similar  lines  in  Shakespeare's  plays. 

The  effects  of  the  chilling  blasts  of  spring  is  noticed  more 
than  once  by  Shakespeare: 

Whose  beauty  tyrant' s  fear , 
As  a  may-blossom  with  pernitious  winds 
Hath  sully  d,  wither  d,  overcast,  and  done. 

Edward  III,  i,  ii 

Rough  rvinds  do  shake  the  darling  buds  of  May. 

Sonnet  18 

Let  not  thy  presence,  like  the  April  sun, 
Flatter  our  earth,  and  suddenly  be  done. 

Edward  III,  i,  ii 

Full  many  a  glorious  morning  have  I  seen 
Flatter  the  mountain  tops  with  sovereign  eye. 

Sonnet  33 

In  the  following  lines  "cost"  is  used  in  the  sense  of  cos- 
tume, and  is  made  to  rhyme  with  "boast." 

And  where  the  upper  turf  of  earth  doth  boast 
His  pied  perfumes,  and  party -colour  d  cost. 

Edward  III,  i,  ii 

Thy  love  is  better  than  high  birth  to  me, 
Richer  than  wealth,  prouder  than  garments'  cost, 
Of  more  delight  than  hawks  or  horses  be; 
And  having  thee  of  all  men's  pride  I  boast. 

Sonnet  91 


112  APPENDIX 

There  are  three  references  to  Julius  Caesar  in  the  Episode. 
Shakespeare's  admiration  for  the  Roman  Conqueror  has 
been  often  noticed. 

When  she  would  talk  of  peace,  methinks,  her  tongue 
Commanded  war  to  prison;  when  of  war, 
It  waken  d  Ccesar from  his  Roman  grave 
To  hear  war  beautify  d  by  her  discourse. 

Edward  III,  n,  i 

List  his  discourse  of  war,  and  you  shall  hear 
A  fearful  battle  render  d  you  in  music. 

Henry  V,  i,  i 

Both  the  following  passages  are  probably  a  reminiscence 
of  Marlowe's  Tamburlane  : 

That  it  may  raise  drops  in  a  Tartar  s  eye, 
And  make  a  flint-heart  Scythian  pitiful. 

Edward  III,  n,  i 
From  brassy  bosoms  a?id  rough  hearts  of  flint, 
From  stubborn  Turks  and  Tartars,  never  trained 
To  offices  of  gentle  courtesy. 

Merchant  of  Venice,  iv,  i 

For  if  the  touch  of  sweet  concordant  strings 

Edward  III,  n,  i 

Mark  how  one  string,  sweet  husband  to  another, 

Strikes  each  in  each  by  mutual  ordering; 

Sonnet  8 

The  sick  man  best  sets  down  the  pangs  of  death  ; 
The  man  that  starves,  the  sweetness  of  a  feast; 
The  frozen  soul,  the  benefit  of  fire  ; 
And  every  grief  his  happy  opposite. 

Edward  III,  n,  i 


APPENDIX  113 

0,  who  can  hold  afire  in  his  hand 
By  thinking  on  the  frosty  Caucasus® 
Or  cloy  the  hungry  edge  of  appetite 
By  bare  imagination  of  a  feast? 

Richard  II,  i,  iii 


That  breaks  the  sacred  warrant  of  an  oath. 

Edward  III,  n,  i 

And  cracking  the  strong  warrant  of  an  oath. 

Richard  II,  iv,  i 


Well  may  I  tempt  myself  to  wrong  myself. 

Edward  III,  n,  i 

Eliz.  Shall  I  forget  myself  to  be  myself? 
Rich.  Ay,  if  yourself  s  remembrance  wrong  yourself . 

Richard  III,  iv,  iv 

This  simile  is  quite  in  Marlowe's  style: 

The  poets  write,  that  great  Achilles'  spear 

Could  heal  the  wound  it  made. 

Edward  III,  11,  i 

Whose  smile  and  frown,  like  to  Achilles  spear 
Is  able  with  the  change  to  kill  and  cure. 

2  Henry  VI,  v,  i 


The  freshest  summer  s  day  doth  soonest  taint 
The  loathed  carrion  that  it  seems  to  kiss. 

Edward  III,  n,  i 

For  if  the  sun  breed  maggots  in  a  dead  dog,  being  a  god  kissing 

carrion. 

Hamlet,  ii,  ii 


114  APPENDIX 

Mr.  Tyler  observes  that  the  first  line  in  the  following  pas- 
sage from  the  Sonnets  is  somewhat  forced,  as  if  to  bring 
in  a  rhyme  to  the  second  line.  He  thinks  it  probable  that 
the  second  passage  is  quoted  from  the  previous  one.  Also 
that  the  expression  " scarlet  ornaments"  occurs  only  in  the 
Sonnets. 

Lilies  that  fester,  smell  far  worse  than  weeds. 

Edward  III,  11,  i 
For  sweetest  things  turn  sourest  by  their  deeds ; 
Lilies  that  fester  smell  far  worse  than  weeds. 

Sonnet  94 

For  sin,  though  sin,  would  not  be  so  esteem  d; 
But,  rather,  virtue  sin,  sin  virtue  deemed. 

Edward  III,  n,  i 
And  right  perfection  wrongfully  disgracd, 

And  simple  truth  miscall'd  simplicity. 

Sonnet  66 

Anon,  with  reverent  fear  when  she  grew  pale, 
His  cheeks  put  on  their  scarlet  ornaments. 

Edward  III,  n,  i 

Those  lips  of  thine 
That  have  prof  an  d  their  scarlet  ornaments 
And  seal' d  false  bonds  of  love  as  oft  as  mine. 

Sonnet  142 

•        • 

For  faults  against  themselves  give  evidence. 

Edward  III,  n,  ii 


APPENDIX  115 

We  ourselves  compelFd 

Even  to  the  teeth  and  forehead  of  our  faults 

To  give  in  evidence. 

Hamlet,  hi,  iii 

The  similarity  of  treatment  in  the  scenes  between  the  King 
and  the  Countess  and  Angelo  and  Isabella  should  also  be 
noticed.  The  following  are  parallel  passages: 

Contemplative  desire!  desire  to  be 

In  contemplation  that  may  master  thee! 

Edward  III,  i,  ii 

0  cunning  enemy  that,  to  catch  a  saint, 
With  saints  dost  bait  thy  hook! 

Measure  for  Measure,  ii,  ii 

Delve  there,  and  find  this  issue  and  their  pride 
To  spring  from  ordure  and  corruption  s  side. 

Edward  III,  i,  ii 

Do  as  the  carrion  does,  not  as  the  fotver, 
Corrupt  with  virtuous  season. 

Measure  for  Measure,  ii,  ii 

To  stamp  His  image  in  forbidden  metal, 

Edward  III,  ii,  i 

that  do  coin  Heaven  s  image 
In  stamps  that  are  forbid. 

Measure  for  Measure,  ii,  iv 


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